Talking in Her Sleep
by Determamfidd
Summary: Hiccup's been away for six months. When he finally comes home, he's... well, maybe Astrid and Ruffnut shouldn't be blamed for their reactions. And they're not the only ones...
1. Chapter 1

AN: Not mine, no money, no sue.

**Talking in Her Sleep**

I couldn't really tell you when it all started. Maybe after the injury. So much medicine, honey and food was forced into him after his amputation. That could have started it. I certainly didn't notice, not then.

The dragon peace was getting a lot of attention from our neighbours, and so we set up 'Dragon Diplomats'. His idea. There was one to Freezing-To-Death, one to Thick, one to Hopeless, one to Phlock, and one to Brass Monkey. You've never been there have you? It's west of Freezing-To-Death. Even colder than Berk. You'd hate it.

They sent Hiccup to Brass Monkey. As chief's son, and as the hero of the village, he had to convince them to make peace with the dragons. He sailed away a summer ago with Toothless, Stoick, Gobber and many gifts for the Brassies, including two Nightmare eggs and a sweet little trained Terror called Bugeyes. When he sailed, he was still mostly the Hiccup I remember. Mostly…

Okay, so he'd been getting taller. Like I mentioned, the whole village kept forcing remedies and whatnot into him, they were all so proud of him. He was still rake-thin and weedy, and I still could have snapped him with one hand, but he was finally taller than me. He didn't hide how happy he was about it, either. Still shorter than Ruff and Tuff at that stage though.

That, though, that was the only warning we got.

He came back two days ago. Winter. It's a miserable time to travel. Toothless was torpid with the cold when the longship pulled back into the harbour, and he caught my attention first. I leapt onto the ship as it docked and ran to the black lump huddled under a swathe of furs. He didn't even stir.

"Toothless?" I murmured, stroking the silky jet of his protruding ear. "Oh, poor dragon. Is he okay?" I asked, looking around for Hiccup, for where Toothless was, Hiccup was never far away.

"He's two steps from hibernating fully," said a voice I knew, and didn't. "We've got to get him inside quickly. He's been trying to put it off, but he's just not winning."

I turned, and my stomach clenched painfully. It really did.

_I'd kissed this boy. _Suddenly it seemed like the bravest thing I'd ever done.

He was even taller. I had to tilt my head up to see his face. He was around shoulder-height on his father now. His rusty hair had grown slightly and now fell in thick waves to his jaw, which had slightly broadened. His face had always been a bit longish; his adult jaw gave the impression that he'd grown into it. All that messy red-brown hair made his eyes stand out all the more. A shadow on his cheeks indicated that he was clean-shaven by choice now and not by nature, though his sideburns were quite a bit longer than they had been.

Not that those were the only changes. He was only wearing a green sleeveless tunic and brown leggings, and his arms shone with sweat. He'd been helping with the rigging, judging from the coil of rope at his feet. Foot.

He'd always been such a toothpick. He still was. It had never seemed… _attractive_ before.

His arms were still slim, but long flat muscles moved under the sweat in… interesting ways. His skinny torso was a collection of equally interesting planes, fine, straight shoulders narrowing to still-narrow hips in a perfect triangle. And his legs…

They were so _long_. They gave me ideas. They made my face burn.

"Hiccup…?" was all I could manage. My breath was stolen away. This… wasn't Hiccup Haddock. This was a stranger from Brass Monkey. But there, poking out of the leggings, was a wood-and-metal contraption instead of a foot. It was different too, and carved over with reliefs of Night Furies.

"Astrid?" he asked, in that not-familiar, so-familiar voice. It was deeper, more resonant. And worried. His thick eyebrows were knitting slightly as he peered at me in concern. "You okay?"

"Ahh…" I hedged, leaning back to try and get some air, some _air_….

"You've gone all red," he said, tipping his head. I noticed that reddish shadow extended along his jaw and throat. His throat, oh, that collarbone, _mmmm_.

"Fine!" I squeaked. "I'm fine, just… ah, hi, Hiccup, er, hi there. Hiccup. Good to… see you," I finished lamely. Kill me now.

"You too," he beamed warmly at me. Even the little gap in his teeth looked attractive. I felt faint and hot all over. "You look beautiful."

_I_ looked…? "You look…" I swallowed. Hard. _Good enough to eat?_ my mind piped. "Different," I croaked. "Taller!" I hastily added, in case I hadn't embarrassed myself enough.

"Finally," he snorted, and ran a hand through his hair. It made me notice burn marks and calluses on those long, clever fingers. _Unf._ "I had to redesign my foot twice while I was in Brass Monkey, my other leg kept getting too long! And these are the only clothes I have that fit now. I think the tunic is Spitelout's, actually. I think I've stopped growing though. Hope so, I'm sick of splitting clothes."

I made a noise like a Terror being stepped on. Hiccup seemed to take it for agreement.

"I know! Right in the middle of presenting Bugeyes to their chieftain. I was so embarrassed. Hiccup the Useless strikes again. But she was really… er, nice about that."

_Bet she was._ "They have a female chieftain?"

"Yeah. Oglaranna the Aggressive. She's… erm." Hiccup looked skywards. "Look, let me tell you about it while we get Toothless up the hill. He's going to need some convincing."

"Fish?" I guessed, still burning with curiosity about this fierce chieftess.

"As much as possible," Hiccup smoothed his hand over Toothless' head. The dragon gave a small groan. "We agreed that he wouldn't eat on the longship until he got home – that way he'd be less likely to go into full hibernation. He's very hungry and very sleepy. We get two baskets of fish up on our hearth and he'll get himself there. But he'll be asleep two seconds later."

_We agreed…?_ I wondered. Hiccup always could communicate with Toothless in an almost uncanny fashion. As he pulled the heavy furs from the dozing dragon, I ran to the dock where men and women were heaving barrels and bales from the longship, and spotted Ruffnut.

"Ruff!" I yelled. "We need fish! Two baskets! Can you help?"

Ruffnut was folding sailcloth, a gritty, icy job she dropped with distaste. "You are, like, my best friend ever," she moaned to me, looking at her reddened hands. "Why all the fish, then?"

"Toothless is about to go into hibernation, but he needs bait to get up to the chief's lodge. Hiccup and he agreed not to let him eat on the voyage, so he's starving," I explained as we trudged to the fishing boats where the baskets were.

"Hiccup… and the dragon agreed," Ruff raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Shyeah. If it wasn't Hiccup, I don't think I'd…" she broke off.

"Ruff?" I asked.

"I don't believe it," she breathed. "It isn't Hiccup."

Oh no.

I turned. Sure enough, the new and improved Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third was leaping down from the ship and talking seriously to Gobber and Spitelout. The late afternoon sun was hitting his hair and turning it to flames. The sight forced all my breath away again.

"He's Baldur, Freyr and oh dear gods, look at those legs. He's got Honir's legs. They reach to the sky!" Ruffnut's eyes were glinting.

I gritted my teeth. Ruff was not supposed to notice Hiccup's legs. She was not supposed to notice him at all!

"He's still Hiccup," I said a little too forcefully.

"Girl. That's not just Hiccup," Ruff purred. "That's Sigurd in Berk. And I fully intend to be his Brynhild."

I was not hearing this.

"If by that, you plan to watch him marry someone else and then kill yourself," I seethed, "perhaps you'd better pick another?"

"He'd soooo be worth it," she drawled languorously. "Just one night wrapped up in those _legs_…"

Arrgh.

I shoved a basket of fish towards her and hoisted the other myself. I was suddenly aware of my sodden winter cloak, my hair plastered to my head, my threadbare leggings. "Let's get these to Stoick's lodge," I grumbled, snagging a lantern and leading the trudge up the icy hill.

To be honest, I knew why I was suddenly fixating on my shabby clothes. Ruff and Tuff's mother was the village seamstress, and the twins were always kitted out in immaculate fashion. My mother's a shieldmaiden, like me. She can sew an arm together, but not a shirt. I had been dressed in armour from a young age simply because my mother didn't know how to make anything else.

Now, it seemed, I had competition for Hiccup where there was never any before. Well-dressed, wealthy and pretty competition.

I grimly gripped the basket of fish and tuned out Ruffnut's dreamy prattling.

Stoick's lodge was cold and dark, and had been for six months. I put my fish by the unlit firepit and began to stack it with wood. Ruff shivered as she looked around the empty house.

"I wonder if I could convince him to live at my family lodge…?" she mused. "This is totally last generation, all this. And drafty. And imagine sharing a lodge with the chief…? Eurgh. Like sharing with Odin, always knowing what you're up to."

I poured a little too much oil over the unlit logs. "It's Hiccup's home," I bit.

"Hiccup could do with way less gloom in his life, y'know," Ruffnut picked up a statuette of one of the Haddock ancestors.

"All his work is up there," I jerked my head up toward the loft where I knew Hiccup usually kept his sketches and prototypes. "You'd make him leave it?"

"Like I could," Ruffnut snorted. "I'd make him move it. We've got that old stable going free. Of course, he'd have to share with a zippleback, but she's sleeping right now anyway. Heaps of room."

"Toothless, too?" I grabbed the lantern and carefully lit a branch from it, before throwing it into the firepit. The plume of oil smoke rose like a mushroom. I whirled away from it in disgust. "You know he's Hiccup's best friend. You know he's treated like family here. You'd put him in a stable?"

"Duh," Ruffnut rolled her eyes. "He's a _dragon_. Anyway, _I'd_ be Hiccup's best friend after that… well, after the wedding night, anyway!"

"Wedding," I said tonelessly.

"What did you think we were talking about, Astrid? The weather?" Ruff sniggered. "I am so marrying those legs. 'Lout and his family's offer can go to Hel."

"Snotlout's father offered for you, then," I said as casually as I could manage.

"And Fishlegs' father. Like, no way, everrrr. Anyway, it doesn't matter now that chief-in-waiting Hiccup the Hero has become chief-in-waiting Hiccup the _Phwoar_. Why, haven't you got any offers, Astrid?"

My hands clenched. "No." And everyone knew it. Just as everyone, everyone knew that Hiccup was mine, and I was Hiccup's. They'd known it for years. Promised in front of everyone the day he woke up, with a kiss in front of his father. No offer required.

But if Hiccup married someone else…

I would have nothing. No offers, because I had promised myself to a man who had not accepted. I would be nothing in the village at all. Best to hope for would be a clean and early death in battle, so as not to harm my little brother's reputation when he came of age. Not to drain my family's resources, meagre as they were.

Strangely, that was the part that concerned me the least if Hiccup married someone else. Because the part which concerned me the most was the bit where _someone else had married Hiccup_.

Oh, Ruff. It was so _on_.

"Let's stop playing, Ruff," I threw back my winter cloak and gripped the haft of my axe. "Hiccup is _mine_. He's been mine since he had two feet. He's been mine since you could see the top of his head. Hel, he was mine even before I gave him the time of day! Go marry Snotlout or Fishlegs, but if you try for Hiccup, it'll cost you." I smirked. "Badly."

Ruff's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You haven't got a father to speak for you, Astrid. You've lost this already."

"I don't need a father to speak for me!" I hissed, and my axe was suddenly in my hands, pressed against her throat. "I can speak for myself! Can _you_, Ruffnut Thorston?"

"Anything you can do, I am automatically _queen_ of!" Ruff retorted, and I could feel another blade pressed against my stomach.

"Prove it!" I barked. "No families! No offers! Nothing but you, me and Hiccup, and we'll see who wins!"

Ruff's face slackened in shock. "No-one's ever done that before!"

"No-one rode a dragon before Hiccup, either," I jerked my axe against her. "We're a village of firsts. Get used to it, or get out of the way!"

"Never," Ruff grinned viciously at me. "Hofferson, you're on. And may the best Thorston win."

"I don't intend to stay a Hofferson for long, Ruffnut," I smiled acidly. "So, up to him?"

She nodded, careful of my axe. "Up to him."

"What in Hel's name is going on here?"

Hiccup's voice threw us both for a loop. I whipped my axe behind my back, noticing Ruff tucking her hatchet away at the same time. "Er… practise?" I managed.

He tilted his head at me with a quizzical look in his eyes. Those big, green eyes… _stop that_. "Riiiiight, because everyone knows you need more practise, Astrid," he said in his old, dry way, and the familiarity in that gave me hope. This beautiful stranger was still sarcastic, clever, witty Hiccup Haddock after all. "Anyway, Toothless is mostly up the hill, but I was coming to see if you wanted help?"

"No, no, Ruff here…"

"I offered," Ruffnut interrupted in a sweet, little-girl tone so unlike her normal drawl that both Hiccup and I stared at her in astonishment. "It's Toothless, after all."

"I didn't know you liked Toothless!" Hiccup smiled warmly, as he had always done at the mention of his first and best friend.

At that smile, both Ruff and I stifled a sigh.

"Oh, yeah, for sure… I mean, he saved our village and all," Ruffnut lowered her eyes artfully. My hands were white around my axe handle behind my back by then, I knew it. "And he saved you." And then she looked up through her lashes.

My axe handle broke between my fists with a loud _crack!_

"What was that?" Hiccup and Ruff both jumped. I stuffed the now much-shorter axe under my cloak as Hiccup looked suspiciously at the fire and Ruffnut looked suspiciously at me.

"Must have been the fire," I said brightly. "I put a lot of oil on, wanted it to be warm for Toothless. Should we go help him?"

"Since you're all good, yeah," Hiccup nodded, then walked to a fish basket and helped himself to two cod. "Bait," he explained, before disappearing back out into the fog, still bare-armed.

"Wait!" I said suddenly, grabbed a sleeping fur and a large turbot and followed him. "Wait up!"

His new foot was incredible. It seemed impossible that only seven months before he had limped slightly and always had to catch up. Now, his long legs ate up distance and the firm clack of the metal was evenly paced with the dull thump of his boot. "That's…" I struggled with the sleeping fur, "that's some foot, Hiccup! I can barely keep up!"

"You always were on the small side, weren't you, Astrid?" Ruffnut said with insincere commiseration as she walked easily on Hiccup's other side.

"Well, so was I, until recently," Hiccup said without inflection, looking critically at Ruff. I felt a pang of triumph. "What's the skin for?" he turned to me again.

"You," I fumbled with fish and blanket. "You're only wearing a woollen tunic, you must be freezing! How have you not gotten frostbite on that longship? Put it around your shoulders."

"Thanks, Astrid!" he seemed surprised and pleased. "But, ah, kinda got my hands full here. Could you…?"

"Here," Ruffnut grabbed it from me and lovingly draped it all over him. I'm sure she took the opportunity to feel up those shoulders, too. "Better?"

"Thanks, guys!" he gave us that quirked half-grin I recognised so well. "I'd forgotten all about the weather. It's colder in Brass Monkey than here, I just sort of got used to it, especially as my clothes kept on not-fitting. Here he is!"

I could make out a black shape in the snow, labouring wearily against the heaviness of his limbs and the drooping of his eyelids. He was accompanied by two blocky shapes – Stoick and Gobber. They were leading the practically dormant dragon up the hill.

"Toothless!" I exclaimed, and stumbled forward to pat his shiny black hide. He gave me a plaintive grumble, and then nosed the fish I was carrying by the gills.

"You can have it when we get up the hill, bud," Hiccup said soothingly. "It's a turbot, Astrid brought you a turbot. You like them, right?"

Toothless swung his head blindly to where Hiccup's voice came from, and he quieted when the long-fingered hand settled against his nose. "He's got to keep moving," Gobber insisted. "He'll be asleep before he gets t' the fish at this rate."

"Come on, buddy," Hiccup pushed his two cod against the black nose, and an interested, questioning noise signalled Toothless' renewed movement. "We're almost there, I promise. Fifty more feet or so. There's a fire, and two baskets of fish, and once you've eaten you can sleep and be warm and no-one will move you. Will they?" Hiccup squinted at his father who looked embarrassed.

Stoick the Vast scratched his beard. "Ah, no, son. Not this winter. Learned m'lesson."

Toothless gave a huff that, though immeasurably tired, indicated a certain amount of draconic amusement.

"But Toothless, please don't go burning people's beards if they stumble over you, or something," Hiccup added diplomatically. Gobber sniggered.

It was somehow sad to watch the normally fantastically agile Night Fury stumble blindly up the hill, following Hiccup's encouraging voice. I knew it's only because of the winter sleep – I mean, you're asleep right now, aren't you, darling? – but he's always been, well, bigger than life. Bigger than that. A bigger personality than even the Nightmares. Not as pretty as you though, my girl.

It seemed to take forever to get him there, but finally we had him laid out in front of the fire. He barely had the effort to feed himself, so we fed him the fish, Hiccup, Ruff and I. Stoick and Gobber nodded briefly to us, and then went back to supervise the unloading of the ship.

Poor Toothless. Ruff kept cooing insistently at him, which obviously irritated but had the benefit of keeping him slightly awake.

Eventually he'd finished the lot, except for that first turbot I offered him. I raised it enticingly and his large eyes blinked at it, before he opened his mouth slowly, teeth retracted. Hiccup laid a hand on his soft haunch as Toothless chewed twice and swallowed.

"He has to eat this much," he said softly, "before the long sleep, or he'll never wake up. We cut it too close here, buddy. You're not convincing me again, y'hear?"

Toothless moaned low in his throat, then eyed me, then Ruffnut (who was hushing him and singing children's night songs). I smiled at him.

"Yeah he will," I replied to Hiccup, still watching the almost dormant dragon. "Remember, you never could stop him from spinning if he wanted to."

Toothless' pupils seemed to expand then, and I leaned forward to see what was wrong. In a few short racking hasping coughs, a turbot tail was deposited upon my lap in all its sticky, fishy glory.

"Ah," Hiccup said in a strange tone.

"Ew," said Ruffnut, her face twisted in disgust.

"Doesn't he need- don't you need this?" I redirected the question to Toothless. He gave a purling rumble, and nudged his blunt head against my crossed legs.

"He… he wants you to bite it, eat it," Hiccup said, still in that strange tone. He was looking at Toothless oddly. "You sure about this, buddy?"

I raised the tail section to my face. At least it had been a freshly caught fish, and so it didn't really smell, although I didn't like thinking about where it had been. I took a short breath, and bit down.

Raw turbot isn't really too bad, you know? Actually, I lie, it was awful. But you'd have liked it, wouldn't you girl?

Toothless watched me bite, chew and then swallow, before glancing between me and Ruff (who was looking a little green) again, and nodded once with sleepy satisfaction. Then he pushed his head against Hiccup with a mighty effort, purring and crooning his love against the boy's shoulder.

Hiccup threw his arms around Toothless' head. "Sleep well, Toothless," he said thickly. "We'll see you in the morning."

The long tail with its one fin gave a last thump, and then it was still. The Night Fury was curled up before the fire for the three-month nap.

I looked down at my turbot; well, it seemed I had someone's approval, at least. 


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Not mine, no money, no sue.

* * *

"So what was that all about?" I asked him. It was his third day home today.

"What?" he asked distractedly, hammering at my axe. He'd ensconced himself straight back at the smithy as though he'd never gone. The view from my vantage point was a bit different, though.

"With Toothless, and the fish?" I was glad of the reason to visit, and even gladder of the excuse for conversation. Hiccup loved nothing more than talking about Toothless.

"Oh, that," he wiped his forearm across his brow, leaving a streak of soot. "Well, you remember where you first found us?"

How can I ever forget. Different Astrid, different Hiccup, same Toothless. "That little… valley? Cove?"

"Mmmm. When I first made friends with Toothless, I gave him a fish. And he, er, gave me half back." He grimaced. "It was salmon."

"Better than turbot," I shuddered.

"Well done on the not making faces thing, too," he grinned at me. "My fish wanted to be re-gifted back to Toothless."

"Eurgh," I opined decisively.

"Yeah. Anyway, it's sort of his 'getting to know you'… thing. Gift." Hiccup waved his hammer around descriptively. "It happened right against that boulder you sat on when you scared the living Hel out of me."

"You got revenge on me for that," I objected, and crossed my arms as he smirked at me.

The new handle he was inserting into my axe was ready, but he had to extract the remains of the old one first. It was stiflingly hot in the smithy, and I could feel sweat pricking at my neck – though I didn't entirely think it was down to the forge.

Hiccup was hammering the steel around the wooden handle loose enough to work it free. Behind him, the cherry red of melted metal was glowing as Gobber poured it into moulds for arrowheads. Gobber and Hiccup were both shirtless.

The contrast could not have been more different.

I had been trying, really. I had been sensible, normal, I hadn't stared (much), and I'd only squeaked _a little_ when he answered my knock. But it. There was. Him. Chest. Shoulders. Back. _Unnnnnnnggggg._

So much smooth, pink, lightly freckled skin.

His collarbone should be against the Lore. It's like a dragon's wings fanning across his chest. Delicate and strong at the same time, and I want to _bite_ it.

To restore myself to normality, I would let my eyes drift to Gobber. Now, there's a man built like almost every Viking in the village. Barrel-chested, broad, slightly pot-bellied, hairy and scarred. Clawed arm attached to a stump-cap newly decorated with leaping boar. Strangely, it worked. Gobber is the anti-Hiccup!

"Sooooo, you were going to tell me about your trip," I prodded him, still resolutely looking over at Gobber.

"Oh yeah," Hiccup's shoulders (mmm, shoulders) tightened. "Well, _some_ things went well."

That didn't sound promising. "And others didn't?"

"You could say that," Hiccup sighed, working the broken handle out with tongs now. "Chief Oglaranna, well…"

"Fine, lusty wench, Hiccup! Ye shoulda stayed," Gobber suddenly interjected with a stone-toothed leer. I wrenched my eyes away from him with a slight cringe. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, this meant that I was looking Hiccup in the face. I felt my ears burning again.

"No way. That is too much woman for one man to handle, even if he's got a dragon," Hiccup said fervently. I tilted my head at his tone, not liking it.

"Too much… woman?" I asked sharply, and his head ducked a little, his turn to go red.

"Not like that," he mumbled. "Just… there was an awful _lot_ of her…"

"Took a shine to our lad here," Gobber threw down his gloves and leaned back upon his workbench. "Took _several_shines, in fact. Lady just about threw herself on the floor at his foot."

"It would have made an awful noise. Anyway, not at first," Hiccup continued his mumbling.

"Nay, lad," Gobber said kindly. "Ye barely stepped from the ship at first, that's why."

"I hadn't any clothes that fit!" Hiccup protested.

"That wouldnae worried her none!" Gobber chortled. My fists clenched, and I suddenly wished I had another axe handle to break.

"So, she liked Hiccup, then?" I asked in a frosty tone.

"Lass, saying that she liked Hiccup is like saying dragons like long grass. You haven't ever seen a person so struck."

"I did a lot of hiding," Hiccup interrupted, his humour restoring itself. "And flying."

"But you had to present the offer, didn't you?" I asked.

"Ah," Hiccup looked mortified. I was disgusted to notice that even mortification looked good on him.

"Hm," agreed Gobber. "Well."

"Oh, go on, tell it," Hiccup sighed, and turned back to the axe handle. The hard line of his shoulders had solidified to steel. Mmm, shoulders. _Stop that!_

"Astrid, ye see, Lady Oglaranna, she, ah. Um. She made Hiccup a counter-offer."

Oh _no_.

"She did, did she?" I turned to glare at Hiccup. If he was already married, I'd kill him _myself_.

"It was when I presented her with the two Nightmare eggs, and with little Bugeyes," Hiccup muttered. "My jerkin split."

"And your tunic, Hiccup, and your tunic!" Gobber roared with laughter. "It's taken a while but you were right, eventually they simply couldnae contain that much raw Viking!"

"Gobber! You are forbidden on pain of pain from telling any more of this." Hiccup threw the tongs and axe down. "All right, so there I am, a Terror in my arms, and freezing naked to the waist in the Brass Monkey air. And this woman the size of my _father_ says to cement the peace there needs to be a wedding. And I say…"

" 'I ne'er heard of a dragon marrying a woman before, but if you say so,' " Gobber mimicked Hiccup, with some accuracy. "An' then he plops the Terror into the harridan's arms. All I could do not to burst me pants laughing!"

"It was all I could think of!" Hiccup protested, glaring, but the corner of his mouth was twitching.

I was not giggling. I was… clearing my throat. A lot.

"Poor little Bugeyes," Gobber chortled. "Never seen a dragon go pale before."

"So, ah…" Hiccup glared some more at Gobber before rolling his head back in resignation, "they kinda declared war on us."

I blinked.

"On us?" I asked hesitantly.

Hiccup nodded, a mixture of morose and humiliated.

"Not on dragons?" I clarified.

Both Hiccup and Gobber shook their heads. Gobber was a mixture of hilarity and more hilarity.

"Us," I confirmed weakly.

"She likes Bugeyes," Hiccup muttered. "Bugeyes likes her. He catches rats, makes himself useful. No more war on dragons. But…" Hiccup slumped down into the chair he normally used. It was too low now.

"Oh boy," I breathed. "This is… this is…"

_Great!_

"Awful!" I finished. "Hiccup, you can't fight! You've insulted the chief of a rival clan, and you can't fight! This is a total disaster – she'll be coming after you to fight you personally. We've got to train you up!"

"I know!" he said miserably. "I started on the ship! But Gobber, my father, Spitelout, no-one can train me to fight! I'm hopeless at it!"

"Aye," said Gobber kindly, "you're hopeless. So we'll remember you kindly, eh, Hiccup?"

"What?" I rounded on him. "He's a hero!"

"Aye, but Oglaranna isnae called 'The Aggressive', nor become the first Chieftess in five generations by being sweet an' ladylike," Gobber pointed out.

"I'll teach you," I grabbed Hiccup's shoulders. My heart immediately started singing _shoulders!_ again. However, my brain was screaming _she won't-won't-won't get him!_ and, shamefully, also _opportunity knocks_! "No troll-chieftess is going to kill you, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock! You are a hero! You are the dragon-tamer! And you are going to be an amazing fighter! Got that? _Hmm?_" I shook him so hard he had to grab onto his chair.

He swallowed. His throat is so damn pretty. "Uh, yes, ma'am!"

"Good," I let him go and gave him my best steely-eyes. "Meet me in Toothless' cove at the second hour past dawn tomorrow. No being late. Bring that axe."

I stalked out of the smithy, and then my knees buckled.

Ohhhh, _shoulders!_

* * *

So this morning I was waiting for him in the cove. I'd brought along a selection of weapons, and was working out a few winter kinks in my back. I was disappointed in my tumble-rolls, but my somersault was clean and crisp. All that work perfecting it.

"Hey, Astrid."

"Ulph!" I swung around in shock to find my hatchet two inches from his throat. "Um. Sorry. Hi, Hiccup."

"Wow," he gulped. "Guess I'm in good hands, then."

I tried not to beam. "Ah, thanks. So, brought the axe?"

He pulled it from where it was slung on his back and looked at the new handle critically. "Not my best work," he apologised sheepishly, "I'll take it back tonight and finish it off."

I took it from him. He'd beaten metal rings around the axehead to stop the new handle sliding off, and the wood was warm and polished. Oak, maybe, something too hard to snap in my hands. It was lovely. "No… really," I ran my hands down the carefully wound twine around the grip. "It's…" Gorgeous? Beautiful? Absolutely Hiccup? "Fine." _Idiot_. "You've done a fantastic job." _Better_.

He sort of shrugged one shoulder and scuffed at the frozen sod with his metal foot. "Thanks, but the balance is sort of off. Your reach isn't as long as most Vikings, so you need a closer balance. I've got a few ideas on how to sort that, but…"

I held up a finger. "And _that_ is exactly why no-one has been able to teach you to fight," I said clearly.

He looked startled. And delicious, but mostly startled. "Why? Because I have ideas?"

"Because you _think everything through_. You're methodical. Exact." I hefted the axe. He was right, it was too end-heavy.

"That'd be a good thing in a fight though, wouldn't it?" he scratched at his head.

"You'd think so, but no," I shook mine firmly. My bangs were too long, I needed to cut them again. Funny how they grow faster than the rest of my hair. "Methodical and exact is great for smithing, but not in a fight, not really. With fighting, you've got to do all the preparation, train yourself to have certain responses, so that when you're actually in the moment you barely need to think at all. It's all built in."

"Sort of like an instinct?" Hiccup sat down on a boulder. He looked interested now, the way he looked when talking about dragons or machines.

"Sort of," I accepted. "But one you create yourself. I know you can act on instinct – you once told me that when you first flew with Toothless properly, you lost your notes and had to wing it." I grimaced. "Arrgh. I need forgiveness for that horrible pun."

He grinned. "I like puns." Then his face grew absorbed again. "I almost crashed us because I was relying too much on the diagrams. It didn't work until I threw my notes away."

"See!" I pointed out triumphantly.

"So I have to build responses into my body?" he looked up at me from his boulder. "Okay. I can do that."

_I could build him a few responses that- no. No._

"First step is the hardest one," I took a deep breath. "In order to find your strengths, you have to pinpoint what they_aren't_. Your weaknesses. You have to acknowledge them."

His face fell into very familiar, sardonic lines, and I was suddenly seeing his fourteen year old self looking back at me. "Can we spare the time? The list is back at home," he said sourly.

It struck me then. Hiccup still doesn't know. How he looks. That his differences aren't weaknesses. He's not been a hero long. Two and a half years, and six months of that away. And he's always been, well, not quite your usual Viking. He probably still doesn't believe any of it.

He'd better.

I punched his arm. "Not like that. No way, Hiccup!"

"What?" he rubbed at his arm. "Can you quit that? Sheesh!"

"Stop saying stupid things, then!" I snapped. "You are not weak, and you are not useless! You are the best of us all, and don't you ever, _ever_ forget it!"

He gaped at me. Funny, even inhumanly good-looking guys look stupid when they're gaping. "You said what now?"

"I mean it," I seethed. "Facing your weaknesses doesn't mean believing every cruel thing said about you, Hiccup! You're different, yes, but it makes you _strong!_"

He was still gaping at me. "I… I. Um. Wow. Um. So, then. So. Er, what does facing your weaknesses mean? In a," he cleared his throat, "in a fighting sense?"

I pulled him up by the arms until we were standing face to face. Well, face to chin, anyway. "Look at me," I commanded. I was still livid that he _believed_ that...

"What do you think mine would be?" I lifted my eyebrow challengingly, swallowing my anger as much as I could. After all, I was as much to blame as anyone. "Go on. In a fight. Logically."

"Um…" He seemed uncertain of where to put his eyes. "I don't know?"

I sighed, trying to settle down. I had a long way to go here.

"I'm at least a foot shorter than any other Shieldmaiden," I pointed out in my calmest voice. I was proud of that, girl. You would have been too. "This means I'm not as heavy, so I can't overpower with brute force like say, Stoick or Spitelout. You even mentioned one before. I don't have the reach of the taller Vikings, so another blade is always going to get close to me before mine gets close to my opponent. I can't carry heavy armour, so I can't be as well protected. Get the idea?"

He was frowning. "But you're an amazing fighter."

"We'll get to that. Now, in a logical sense, what would yours be?" I held his eyes. _So green._ But this had to be about him, now. No musing on his beauty would help. He still _believed_…

He tried to hold my gaze, I could tell, but his eyes involuntarily dropped to his left before snapping back up. I nodded slowly.

"It's not a weakness, Hiccup," I said, still in my calmest voice. "But an enemy will see it as such, and so you are going to get very, very good at protecting your foot, your stance and your balance. What else?"

He seemed to breathe easier now that the difficult topic of his foot had been broached. "Um, I'm thin? Not as heavy?"

"Right. And?"

"Well, I'm stronger than I was, but not like... like Dad. Not that anyone's really as strong as... anyway. Um. Um. Oh! And I still can't run very fast, but I've got a modification that'll fix that. I hope. Oh gods, I hope. Running away is a very attractive proposition right now."

"Tall isn't always a good thing in a fight, either," I pointed out. "Less likely to see someone like me."

"Hmm," he tipped his head, puzzled. "You know... I can't really think of much else."

"Less than you thought, weren't there?" I said gently. "Not really a list at all."

He blinked, and then his face looked suddenly, utterly stricken. I used my advantage ruthlessly.

"So what does that suggest your strengths in battle are? Let's see. You have reach, speed of reaction, and height to your advantage. You don't always need strength, depending on the weapon. People are breakable, you don't need to split them in half to take them out. And knowing you, I'm sure you'd prefer not to. You're agile, you've had to be to keep up with Toothless. And smithing has given you plenty of endurance."

He was gaping again. This was becoming my favourite of his expressions.

I continued. "You're also clever. And that's the best thing to be in a fight."

"I thought I didn't need to think? That I'd be building automatic body responses?" he said weakly.

"Nope. You always need to think, but those learned responses give you _time_. You can't think about every move. Cut, swing, parry, slash, roll, cut, thrust, kick, slash, punch, cut! Imagine if your head was like that in a fight! But if your body is doing it for you, then you can be thinking of ways to end the whole thing as well."

He looked thoughtful. "I think I understand," he said slowly.

I breathed out. "Right. Talking done. Let's get moving."

I assumed a fight stance, but long fingers quickly grasped my wrist.

"Right," he said, and his smile was a crooked cut on my heart. "Astrid, thank you. _Thank you._"

I forced a grin. "Don't thank me just yet. Not until tomorrow's bruises are yellow."

I can still feel his fingers on my wrist.


	3. Chapter 3

Not mine, no money, no sue.

* * *

I hate Ruffnut.

I went to the mead-hall for dinner tonight, and there's Hiccup, surrounded. Most people eat here at nights what with the winter food stores getting low. He seems to be okay with the celebrity thing now, or at least better at handling it. And hanging off his arm, giggling at every word, is Ruff.

I never hated her before – she was just there. One of the twins, the other girl of our age. Now, though…

And Hiccup, smiling at her and at Snotlout across the table and at Fishlegs and Tuff arguing over the last of the mutton on the table, was letting her hang all over him like an expensive fur.

Speaking of which –

"You're wearing a new tunic?" I blurted, before I'd even sat down.

"Astrid!" Hiccup half-stood when he saw me, his eyes brightening. What brightened _me_, though, was the fact that Ruff got dislodged as he got up. He winced slightly, and I remembered I'd dug him in the small of the back with my knee that morning. Hard.

Good.

"Hi," I gave him a tight smile, and then included the others in my nod, with a small scowl directed at Ruffnut. She glared sulkily back at me, rubbing her elbow where she'd bashed the table.

"Here, sit by me, there's room," Hiccup shifted over. In truth there wasn't, but there was no way I was going to let Ruff have him all to herself. "Mutton?"

"It's mine!" Tuffnut growled, guarding his plate like a dog.

"You ate a substantially larger portion of mutton than anyone here at the table," Fishlegs interjected heatedly. "By at least fifteen percent!"

"Well, _you_ don't need it! I do!"

"Ah, I'll have fish," I said dryly, and grabbed a plate, walking up to the roasting pit in which fish and sheep carcasses were still being picked at.

When I returned, Hiccup was explaining something, his long fingers moving through the air expressively. "…and I just seem to _get_ it now, when I never did before. It's amazing. Really…" he noticed me and broke off, his grin lighting up the hall. "Enough fish left?"

"Just," I muttered, wondering what 'it' was. "So, new tunic then?"

See how subtle I can be? Arrgh. You need to roast me when you're awake. It'd be a kindness.

"Yeah," Hiccup picked gingerly at the russet tunic. "Um. Ruff gave it to me. Said she'd noticed that I was wearing the same one all the time."

"It must be hard, no woman in the house," she said in that sweet, little-girl tone. "No-one to mend or sew."

"Oh, I can sew," Hiccup said absently, looking at the yellow embroidery on his new sleeves. "Had to learn, to do leatherwork. I've run out of cloth though. And leather, down to scraps. And there's not much to be had at sea, though I tried to trade for it back in Brass Monkey."

His answer put a little pout on Ruffnut's face. I reminded myself that gloating is for cowards and mainlanders.

"What did you try to trade?" I asked instead.

"Oh, what I know. Metalwork, leatherwork, saddles and things for the two Nightmares," he shrugged. "No-one took me up on it. They've got a great smith – I learned a thing or two from him."

"What was his name?" Ruff asked, shooting a spiteful little look at me as she firmly entered the conversation for real.

"Ruckus. He helped make my foot," Hiccup glanced down at it, and then darted a small wry smile at me. "Twice."

"Can I see?" I asked eagerly. I'd wanted a closer look at the Night Fury carvings since first seeing them on the longship. Hiccup seemed a little on edge at the request and shifted his knee nervously.

"Well, maybe later, okay?" he mumbled. "Not now."

I have to keep reminding myself that Hiccup is still, after all, _Hiccup_. He still believes, deep down, that he's useless. His leg must be wrapped up in all that, I guess.

I want to see it. His leg, I mean. Not because it's wrong or because scars are cool or anything stupid like that, just… he hates it so much. I want to let him know it's just another part of him and nothing to be ashamed of. But with all those people around it simply wasn't the right time.

I just smiled at him. "No rush," I agreed. "Not now."

He looked slightly happier. "Tomorrow morning, maybe," he said, and that same small smile darted over to me. "But, Astrid…"

"Why not now?" Ruffnut challenged. I watched Hiccup's face close off.

"Ruff," I said softly but firmly. "Not now."

"Your name Hiccup, now?" she folded her arms.

"Stop it," I hissed. She tossed her blonde braids.

"Come on, Hic."

_Hic?_ He hates that.

"You can show us, we're your friends," she cooed.

"Ruff, he doesn't want to!" I tried again. This was getting nasty, fast. I abruptly didn't care, didn't care in the slightest that she wanted him, that she wanted to take him from me before I'd even had him. All I cared about was that she was hurting him. "Leave him alone!"

"So, still talking to _Hiccup_ here, _Astrid_."

"I don't want to show anyone," he muttered.

"You're showing Astrid tomorrow morning. At these so-called amazing _lessons_." Ruff's pretty, agile face sneered over at me. "Bet I can guess what you're _really_ teaching…"

Hiccup stood up. The rasp of his metal foot was very loud against the stone floor.

Ruff took one look at his face and shut up. He looked like thunder. In all the years I've known him, for the first time Hiccup looked like a _man,_ not a boy, and a very angry one at that. The silence at our table spread like a plague until everyone in the hall was looking at the fuming chief's son. He didn't seem to notice.

"Ruff," he grated. "Thanks for the tunic. But it doesn't mean you get to say things like that about my friend. _Ever_. Maybe one day I'll show you my foot. But I won't be wearing it, because I won't be showing you my… my _stump_. Besides which, you keep saying stuff like that, and my foot will be kicking your _arse_."

Ruffnut, wide-eyed, nodded. "Hic… I'm sorry," she said humbly.

Hiccup nodded curtly, then clambered over the bench and stalked away with a click-thump. I released my breath shakily.

"You should know," I said distantly to Ruffnut, "he's still Hiccup. He still thinks he's just Hiccup."

Her head whipped around and she fixed me with a look of pure hatred. I didn't care. Even if she won, she wasn't allowed to hurt him without thinking anymore. "Any more lessons, _'Teach'_?" she drawled.

I pushed back my uneaten fish. "He hates being called 'Hic'. Use his name."

I left the hall. I came here.

Oh, Spike, wake up. I need you to roast me, roast Ruffnut and roast this stupid Oglaranna, too. Then it might all be okay.

Oh well. At least you're a good listener.

* * *

He's still thinking too much. The axe is ridiculous on him, and so is the mace. The spear is utterly ludicrous. We had better luck with the sword, but he can only really wield with his left, and he shouldn't lead with his left foot. Someone with half a brain would step on it and snap it right off.

Archery suits him, but he'd wait all day for a perfect shot if I let him.

So far we've had the best result from grappling – and oh gods in Asgard, _grappling with Hiccup_ is hard on a girl's self control. Though he's not strong, he's wiry and his arms have a blacksmith's precision.

He's still thinking through every move, though. Not flowing through the moments and movements just yet. It's just as frustrating for me as for him, watching him thud heavily on his back when I defeat him. Again.

When we're not wrestling – and I did _not_ just whimper – I'm working through some drills with him. He can barely see the point in push-ups, he's got so little extra body-weight to lift. He finds it tricky to run on the frozen grass as his foot slides about, but the pebbles in the creek-bed are fine. He's talking about creating an attachment for his foot with spikes fixed underneath it for wet and cold weather, and that should help. He absolutely _loathes_ anything to do with kicking.

He won't stop pulling his punches either. I swear, he must think I'm some sort of _girl_.

So not an entirely rosy picture, but miles away from Hiccup the Hopeless. But it was when I remembered his work in the forge (sans tunic oooohhh shoulders shoulders shoulders) that I had a great idea.

"We're going to try something," I announced this morning.

Seated on a boulder and wearing a new fur vest (_arrgh_, Ruffnut _again_), Hiccup looked up from inspecting a bruise on his forearm and winced. "Those are not comforting words, Astrid…"

"You need to learn," I said heartlessly.

"You are a torturer of supreme skill and dedication," he said solemnly. "I am truly in awe of your talents."

I laughed. "Baby. So, I had this great idea."

"Does it involve pain?" he said dryly. "If it does, then I am utterly shocked. Utterly."

"_It involves_ a weapon you can work with," I said sharply.

He sighed, and looked up at me, silently asking me to continue.

"You're used to certain things already," I explained, "through being a smith. You're okay with the idea that a… a _tool_ can be an extension of your arm. What we've been trying is just too different from what you've already taught yourself over years and years."

"Soooo…" he rubbed his bruised forearm, "Astrid, I can't go fight with a pair of tongs and a hammer…"

"Why not?" I challenged. "A hammer is a _great_ weapon! _Mjollnir_ is a hammer! You've been training with hammers since you were eight!"

He looked sceptical. "They're not Mjollnir."

"So, the hammers in the forge are a bit smaller. You could make something, couldn't you? Something a bit bigger – but not Gobber-sized?"

He tilted his head, doubt all over his face. "I suppose… but there's no sharp edges on a hammer, Astrid. All the stuff we've worked on… it won't work with a hammer. I'm not likely to take anyone out that way."

I snorted. "Like anyone ever believed you were actually going to willingly put a hole in someone, Hiccup. That's just not you."

He looked stung. "I… I'm a Viking! I could do it!"

"Whoa!" I held up my hands to stop _that_ line of thought. "Not what I meant!"

His shoulders abruptly slumped. "Who am I kidding. You're right, call myself a Viking, ha. Can't kill a dragon, can't kill a human, can't run, can't do anything right…"

"Can't do anyth- _Hiccup._" I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. Hard. Honestly, he is such an _idiot_. "Who in this village makes every bit of tack for the dragons? Who _invented_ those tacks? Who created the new watch-towers, bolas and catapults, and had the plan for diverting the stream through pipes into the dried well? And who in this village is the most thorough smith Berk has ever known?"

His lovely face was sulky. "Gobber."

"Wrong," I grated. "Gobber's been on and on about _your_ scarily meticulous work for the last four years."

"_Four…?_" his eyes jerked up to me.

"Four," I emphasised. "Long before you ever… and on that subject, who is the one who first trained a dragon? Who is the one who first flew on one? Who is the one who _killed_ the biggest damn dragon anyone has ever seen? Never killed a… Hiccup, you are _really_ thick at times."

Hiccup looked down, and then back to me, giving me an embarrassed little smile. "Er, I had help with that, you know. Well, of course _you_ know."

I'm glad you can't talk, girl, because you can't tell anyone that my insides _melted_ at that.

I sat down next to him on the boulder. "I know you did," I said, giving him a little smile back. "I remember."

"You helped," he ducked his head, his cheeks pinking.

"My job," I replied, feeling a little giddy.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and long, clever fingers touched the back of my hand once.

This is the lucky hand. This one, see, Spike? Nope, course you don't.

We sat there for a couple of seconds, and then he said, "I could make a hammer. For me, I mean. It'd have to be a bit less dense than a normal war hammer though, or I'd never be able to lift it."

"Sounds good," my smile got a bit broader. I had the awful feeling that it was getting a little goofy.

"And you're right," he sighed. "I don't want to cut people up. I… hate the whole idea, actually."

"I figured you'd have a problem with that," I said pointedly. "I doesn't mean you're not a Viking, Hiccup, how many times do I need to get this through to you? It just makes you _you_."

He fidgeted. He'll probably never believe it, not wholly, but his self-esteem is climbing bit by bit. It's good to see.

Still, the fidgeting was probably a sign that he wanted to get off the subject of himself for a while. I decided to take pity on the guy, and nudged him.

"A hammer works for you perfectly, then," I said briskly. "You can work on incapacitating people without permanently damaging them. And all that precision work should come in handy there."

He brightened. "Good point. Hey, great idea, Astrid!"

"Told you," I said smugly.

* * *

I was walking back here tonight when Hiccup came stumbling down the path from the forge.

I _wish_ he'd wear his tunic in front of me. I can't be held responsible for what I say. In this case it wasn't a squeak… more of a squawk, actually. How humiliating.

"Astrid!" he puffed, and grabbed my arm, "Argh, freezing, freezing, freezing cold, Astrid, come look! I've finished the first stage of my hammer, gods it's way too cold out here, it's going to work, I think, although it's hard to COLD COLD COLD, to know what the balance should be, fah-REEZ-ing out here, and I want to do more detail on th-"

"You need to take a breath," I said faintly. Chest. Oooooh, chest.

"Oh. Yeah," he blushed. Adorable. "But come and see!"

He dragged me back to the forge past Phil the sheep, and I was greeted by the usual blast of stiflingly hot air and the smell of leather and metal and woodsmoke. I nodded to Gobber as he plunged a glowing sword into a bucket of water and a plume of steam roared around his face. He looked like the reincarnation of Volundr, the smith-god.

Though I'm fairly sure Gobber's mum was never a mermaid.

"Evenin', Astrid!" he yelled at me through the clouds. His moustaches were tied in a bow under his chin, and that made my lips quirk. "Pretty girls in the forge, Hiccup, this is our lucky day, eh?"

"Nope, nothing to see here, nothing at all, no parents to warn or anything," Hiccup shouted at him, "so if you're seeing pretty girls in the forge, you must be drunk again!"

"What d'you mean, _again_? The word is _still_!" Gobber roared back. I laughed at their comfortable banter.

"Hi, Gobber," I yelled to him, grinning. "Is it always summer in here?

"Always!" he grinned back. "The sun never stops smiling in a smithy!"

Hiccup pulled me back to his side of the smithy, where an unwelcome sight greeted me.

Ruffnut was sitting, somewhat awkwardly, on Hiccup's now-adjusted chair. There was a pot in her hands, covered with a cloth, and I could smell something savoury rising from it.

Hiccup obviously hadn't known she was here. He drew up short. "Ruff! Ah, hi! What… what are you doing here?"

"Came to see you, crazy boy," she smiled. At least, she showed teeth.

Hiccup seemed a little lost at that. "Oh! Um. Okay. Why?"

"Why?" Ruffnut laughed dismissively. "Oh, you. I brought you some of my mum's famous stew, thought you might be hungry." She shot me a poisonous look. "I didn't see you eat much the other night."

It had been a mistake to mention the fight at dinner. Hiccup's face closed down. "Thanks," he said flatly.

I winced. He'd been so excited and happy about his hammer.

Curling my fingers over his bare arm (arm arm arm arm _FOR THE LOVE OF URD STOP IT_) I said calmly, "Hiccup, don't you have something to show me?"

Hiccup went bright red. Ruffnut's eyes widened… and belatedly I realised what I'd just said.

"Don't look at me like that!" I snapped. "It's a hammer! Hiccup's going to fight with it."

"Riiiight," Ruff looked unconvinced. Her face had fallen into the unimpressed lines it usually took on when she spoke to poor Fishlegs.

Hiccup was still fire-red. "Ahhh-HEM, ahem, hmm. Um. No, actually, really, no, it is a hammer, see…"

He picked up a war-hammer from where it was cooling on top of his anvil. I noticed only then that the smooth planes of his chest and forearms were slightly reddened, as though by exposure to intense heat.

"Hiccup!" I immediately scolded him. I can't seem to stop. Must be a character flaw. "You shouldn't be going around without an apron or tunic on when you're shaping metal! Look at you!"

He glanced down. "It'll fade," he said with indifference. "Look, Astrid! I got the weight _perfect!_"

I shared an agonised look with Ruff, possibly the only concord we'd had all fortnight. He simply couldn't go around marring all that _unggggh_ chest and _unf_ skin… the boy desperately needed a keeper. There, at least, we agreed.

"You're getting an apron," Ruff drawled in her normal way. Gods it was a relief to hear her speak normally, well, normally for her anyway. "At least wear the tunic I gave you."

Hiccup was getting annoyed that neither of us were looking at his hammer. "I've only got the two, I can't get them burnt, and this'll fade in a couple of days! Would you just look at the hammer? Please?"

Ruff and I gave each other one more commiserating glance, before we bent over to look at the unadorned hammer. Ruffnut's helmet cracked me in the head just as I accidentally stepped forward onto to her toe. It really was an accident, Spike! I don't think she meant it either. Just bad timing.

Either way, that was when reality smacked us both in the head. I glared at her furiously, even as she sneered.

"It's steel, pretty heavy," Hiccup rattled off, sounding immensely proud of himself. "Not as big or heavy as the normal ones though, you were right about that, Astrid… and I've thickened and slightly shortened the handle to get more control over the heft. Balance isn't perfect, but look!"

He grabbed a tiny nail from the bench and pushed it into a thin wooden rod until the tip was barely buried. My eyebrows raised. No-one could have that much control over a _war_-hammer… could they?

"Hold that still," he said in a commanding tone that made my stomach tighten. Ruff and I both held the rod tightly, the end braced on the floor.

Hiccup swung the hammer in a practised arc around and over and down with a soft but solid THUD.

When he lifted it, the nail had been pounded flat into the rod. The rod itself hadn't even moved.

I whistled. "Hiccup. Wow."

He gave me a giant grin. "Hammer it is," he said simply.

"Fight Oglaranna with a hammer?" Ruff's voice was supremely cynical as she examined the wooden rod and nail still in her hands. "So, you looking to be honourably killed in battle already? Eager for Valhalla?"

"Didn't you just see that?" I asked her. "You have to admit, that was pretty cool!"

"She's an axe-woman," Ruff snorted. "Hammer or no, she'll slice him to pieces, Astrid."

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming," Hiccup muttered.

"Sorry," Ruff slid down from Hiccup's chair. "It's sorta the truth and all. Still! Eat up, she's not here yet!" She patted the cloth-covered pot, and then walked towards the smithy door.

"You never know," Hiccup said desperately, "I _could_ win…?"

I shook my head at Ruff as she left, waving her fingers behind her at Hiccup, who gave an awkward sort of half-wave back. I could tell he felt dreadful about the Oglaranna thing.

"Hey," I said softly, "I'm an axe-woman."

He looked at me with defeat in his face. "I know."

"So, you practice with your hammer against my axe. She won't know how to fight you – but you'll know how to fight her. Sound good?" I nudged his side. And my brain for once didn't flip at touching him.

He gave a humourless smile. "Okay, sounds… okay."

"Good."


	4. Chapter 4

Not mine, no money, no sue.

* * *

"So your hammer is about plus ten dexterity and plus twelve accuracy, which means you have approximately a one in fifty chance of beating an axe with plus ten dexterity, plus nine accuracy, plus twenty years experience and one hundred percent more cutting power," Fishlegs finished. I smacked him on the back of the head.

Hiccup rubbed at the back of his neck, leaving a smear of oil there. His eyes did that darting glance to his foot and he jerked them away as he always does. "Wow, 'Legs, that's really good for the old confidence there."

"Statistics are a useful source of information," said Fishlegs, rubbing his head. "You didn't need to hit me, Astrid!"

"Yes I did," I said bluntly. "Ignore that, Hiccup."

It was warm in the gloom of the old dragon-training enclosure's Zippleback cage. Though it's not a cage any longer, really. It now stores the saddles for every dragon in the village still kept here, as the Zippleback itself is in the Thorston stable.

Hiccup pulled another saddle down from the wall and grabbed the oily rag he'd been using, beginning to rub the dusty leather. "How'd you get statistics on Oglaranna anyway, 'Legs?"

"Stories, mostly," Fishlegs admitted, rubbing down the Nadder's saddle he was oiling.

"Oh, very accurate," I sniped.

The three of us, as the most advanced of the dragon riders, were responsible for the upkeep of the village dragons' riding gear. Most other villagers had too many other responsibilities, and though Snotlout and Ruff and Tuff ought to be joining in, they'd been volunteered for a winter ice-fishing haul. Ruff's pout was so big she almost tripped over it. Fishing in winter is _vile_.

"Are you scared, Hiccup?" Fishlegs asked in a hushed voice.

Hiccup gave a sort of half-hearted shrug, rubbing harder at the leather of the Gronkle saddle. "I'm doing everything I can about it," he said tonelessly. "Trying not to think about it too much, actually."

"Well, you're a hero though, aren't you?" Fishlegs obviously noticed Hiccup's attitude – a smidge too late in my opinion. "The gods won't let you lose!"

"Tell that to Sigurd," Hiccup grunted.

Fishlegs subsided, an apprehensive look on his face. I decided at that point to change the subject.

"So, you made all these, didn't you?" I asked Hiccup, rubbing along the smooth sweep of a Nightmare's saddle.

"Yup," he answered distractedly, working hard at a leather seam to make it flexible again. "The Gronkle ones were really tricky. Not much neck room. And the Nightmare ones have a really short shelf-life if they forget not to set themselves aflame."

"Gronkles have more strength to body mass than any other dragon," said Fishlegs loyally. Hiccup grinned at him.

"Horrorcow can't hear you, Fishy," he nudged his friend.

"She doesn't need to," sniffed Fishlegs. "Gronkles need better press."

"Hey! I'm okay with Gronkles!" I protested.

"So, you want a Gronkle then? There's a new one without a rider sleeping against Horrorcow, came in around late autumn to get at the food bowls," Fishlegs rounded on me eagerly. I held up my oily hands.

"Hey, I like 'em, but Spike would kill me." Because, you so would.

"Your Nadders are so possessive," Fishlegs complained, and went back to oiling the stiff, cold-cracked leather.

"You should see how bad Night Furies are," I murmured, and Hiccup snickered.

"No fair when he's fast asleep and can't defend himself," he said mock-sternly.

"No fair? What are we, six? Anyway, that's the only _safe_ time," I tossed my head. Gods above, my bangs are so annoying. I have to cut them.

"So what's the difference?" Fishlegs asked, placing the Nadder saddle back on the wall and grabbing a Gronkle saddle with obvious fondness. "Between the saddles, I mean?"

"Oh! Well, each dragon is a bit different anyway," Hiccup wiped at his neck again. The golden smear of the oil made it glisten. _Mmm._ "I don't mean that each breed is different, though that's sort of obvious, but that every dragon is different."

He put the Gronkle saddle he'd finished back on the wall, and picked up a Zippleback's. "I made this for Nidhogg, the right head of the Svalmir family's Zippleback. He's got a kink in his neck, so the saddle can't sit as far forward as Ruff and Tuff do on Sindri and Brokk. I burn the dragon's name into the saddle, underneath, if the dragon has one, or the family name if the dragon hasn't yet okayed one. They're all different. I wouldn't ever use another Gronkle's saddle on Horrorcow, for example, Fishlegs."

Fishlegs was intrigued. "Why? Is it her back?"

"Nope. Her legs. They're shorter than even other Gronkle legs – which makes her even more sturdy!" Hiccup added hurriedly. "It's because she has such a deep chest – longer straps around her front will give her backache, so shorter and higher is better."

"How do you know all this?" I asked him, fascinated.

"Trial and error," he grimaced, rubbing at the leather straps on Frithiof's saddle. "I noticed on that first flight that Fishlegs had to sit really far forward on Horrorcow's neck, and if he leaned back it annoyed her. And then we had those first test saddles that Gobber made, remember?"

"Oh yeah! I wondered why we weren't keeping those," Fishlegs polished industriously at a metal buckle. "They were okay. Weren't they? I thought they were okay."

"They were okay," Hiccup conceded grudgingly. "But I saw different problems for different dragons. Gobber helped with some of the fitting work, but I'm sure he thought I was being crazy, fitting each saddle."

I thought of your saddle, sitting in the dark a few doors down. "I should get Spike's saddle," I said then, surprising even myself with the suddenness of it. But I hadn't really realised he'd put so much effort into it all, sweetheart… and besides, it's always nice to crawl in beside you in the gloom and talk like this.

"Spike's down here?" Fishlegs looked horrified. I shot him an evil look.

"Not all of us have a big house or barn, 'Legs," I said, and I really did try not to snap. But I'm afraid I did. A bit.

"She still in the Nadder enclosure?" Hiccup asked, and I nodded reluctantly. I didn't really want anyone to come with me – talking to you is special, Spike.

"She likes it, it's home to her," I defended you. Hiccup held up his hands.

"Whatever she likes," he said placatingly. "Go get her saddle, then."

So I crept in here, girl, and tiptoed past you towards your saddle. It was on the shelf I'd made (badly) to keep things on for you. Your neck-spikes were getting a bit dull, so I also grabbed the cloth I'd put there for you. I know how vain you are, and you'd be furious with me if you woke up in less than perfect condition.

I like taking care of you, sweetie. It's certainly easier when you're so asleep, too. You're such a fidgeter. So I didn't realise I'd been taking so long, humming to myself and polishing your spines.

"Astrid? I sent 'Legs home, we've finished all the others, are you…"

_Hiccup?_ Oh great, he would come after me.

"Shh!" I hissed, and I could only just make out the shape of him outlined in the open doorway.

"Sorry," he whispered. "We're done with the rest, you got her saddle?"

"Yes," I whispered back, and heard the soft click-thump of his footsteps as he carefully made his way into the gloom. "Just a bit of routine beauty maintenance."

"Nadders, so vain," Hiccup chuckled, and I felt rather than saw him sit down with me next to your head. "Although I admit it's always so much easier to clean Toothless' teeth when he's asleep."

I rubbed the cloth down the last spike of your lovely, deadly collar. "Oh, I hear that loud and clear. She's usually shifting about from leg to leg when I do this, or trying to groom her tail-darts. She never keeps still."

Hiccup's whisper was unconsciously, unbearably sexy in the almost-darkness. "Have you tried getting the tail-rig on that black idiot when he's in a mood? Impossible."

"So, you clean his teeth?" I stood to hide my shiver. The feel of the boy's breath against my neck brought me out in goosebumps. "With what?"

"Chalk or charcoal, if I can find enough," Hiccup replied. "Of course, when he's awake, he retracts them just to be difficult. Or because he hates the taste, not sure which. Maybe both, knowing him."

I smiled unseen as I folded the polishing cloth and put it back on the shelf by feel.

"Her scales and spines feel beautiful. So smooth and clean," Hiccup said after a moment. "Did you do all that just then?"

"Ah," I was embarrassed at being caught out. Not embarrassed of you, girl! But, like I said, our time, me babbling here at you in your sleep, it's… special. "I'm down here a lot, actually. It's warm, and… and I, well, I like talking to her."

"While she's hibernating?" Hiccup's hushed voice was amused. "That desperate for decent conversation, huh?"

"Shut up," I grumped, and picked up your saddle again. "It's nice."

"Hey, I haven't got my judgemental pants on today, it's okay. Actually, I'm not sure I even _own_ judgemental pants, so pretty much anything you do is always great. I mean, er, great with me." I heard the click as he stood to follow me back out into the freezing air.

"If you ever did, they don't fit anymore," I teased him, and then was incredibly grateful he didn't see my blush. Oh, thinking about _pants_ and _Hiccup_ makes me think about long, long _legs_, closely followed by filthy, wicked things.

"Oh, don't remind me," he grumbled. "Besides, talking to a sleeping dragon can't even begin to compare with some of the weird stunts I've pulled."

"Thank you for making me seem comparatively normal," I said solemnly as we re-entered the old Zippleback cage.

He grinned that crooked little grin that makes my chest tighten. "My pleasure. Shall we get to this saddle?"

Your saddle looks lovely, my girl.

* * *

Today I found out that other people in this village have noticed Hiccup's self-esteem issues. Also, I'm not the only one who has a problem with Ruffnut.

"Lass!"

I was on my way through the village towards Toothless' Cove in the freezing morning air, when I heard the hiss from between shadowed buildings.

"Lass! Psst!"

I peered. "Gobber?"

"Aye, keep yer voice down!" Gobber huddled out from between the smithy, where he slept, and the watchtower. "Don't want Hiccup to spot me."

"Why?" I was tired, and grouchy, and blunt. It had been a horrible night. I'd dreamed about the _chop_ of the sawbones' axe right after the battle at the dragon's nest. The screams and whimpers that had escaped his unconsciousness. I haven't had that dream in two years.

"Because he'll guess what I'm up to, an' I don't want that," he dragged me by the arm back to the smithy. "Hurry now!"

I shrugged. Oh well.

The smithy was still warm. I felt myself uncoiling in the close, leather-smelling cosiness, a place and smell that evoked Hiccup immediately in my mind. "Gobber, what's this about?"

He looked at me with some approval. "Heard your little spat with the Thorston girl t'other night."

My jaw tightened. "And?"

"An' I know something about what the lad has been through," Gobber said pointedly. "Ye did good, Astrid. But I'm sure you have more questions. An' they can only be answered by a man wi' one leg, am I right?"

I was taken aback, I admit. "Why would you answer them? Why can't he?"

"He's no' ready yet," Gobber lurched over to his bench, and drew up his truncated leg with his one good hand. "Ye'll understand, it took me nigh on six years to accept that my hand and leg were ne'er coming back. I make jokes now, oh yes, but then, I believed I was somehow… not myself anymore. Not even a man anymore."

My brows knitted automatically. "But you've always been so…!"

"Aye, well, it were a long time ago. You weren't even an idea in yer parent's heads then." Gobber was unwrapping the leather cord that wound around his thigh and kept his peg from clattering off. "It ain't pretty, what fire and dragon-teeth do. An' mine's a damn sight prettier than his, it's older and more healed."

I clenched my jaw. "I don't care."

"Ye should," Gobber pulled the cup of the peg from his stump gently, and then the lambswool-filled sock underneath. "It's part o' him." He swung to face me.

I made myself look at it. It wasn't so bad, really. Silvery crisscrossed lines of scar tissue, creating strange crevasses all over the leg. "That's not so bad," I accused.

"Like I said, older and more healed. His is still red." Gobber took a cloth and wiped down the strange scar-valleys of his leg, before continuing in a more conversational tone. It almost felt like he was teaching me again.

"Now then, the scars ache in cold weather, which is pretty much all the time, an' sometimes I can feel my leg still, prickling and stinging. No idea how a leg that isn't there can hurt so damn much. The skin's got bugger-all sensation left, because there's too much scar tissue. Pulls funny on the normal skin sometimes. Hiccup's got even more scar tissue than me. An', worse thing is," he looked up with a grave expression and continued heavily, "the toothmarks on him are Toothless'. No doubt about it."

My breath caught in my throat. "Toothless saved him," I said weakly.

"Aye, and a hard decision to make, human or dragon. Toothless couldnae grab him, he's got no thumbs after all. Toothless had to bite him to catch him. To save him." Gobber carefully refitted the lambswool sock. "Hiccup's never told a soul, but then, he didn't have to tell me. I knew."

"He knows?" I sat down heavily in Hiccup's chair. Oh Hiccup. Oh Toothless.

Gobber snorted. "Like those two could ever lie to each other. Hah!" He started wrapping the leather cords around his thigh again. "Now Astrid, I show you these things and I tell you these things not to have you feel sorry for him or me," he said sternly.

I nodded blankly. I was still thinking of Toothless, and Hiccup falling, and that frantic flight into the flames that I could barely see.

"I tell you because I see you looking at Hiccup, at the handsome lad he is now," Gobber grinned suddenly, "and you have to admit, he caught us all by surprise there. His mother was a damn fine-lookin' woman, though."

I realised I knew nothing, absolutely nothing, about Hiccup's mother, not even her name.

"Still," Gobber grunted and put his peg back onto the floor. It made the wooden _clack_ I've associated with him for what seems like forever. "Ye have to remember there's more to the boy than his handsome face. An' this bit," he pointed to his leg, "this bit is going to need time, space an' work. An' some of it has to come from you."

"Me?" I croaked. My head was full of feet and dragons and dives to the death.

"Well, it's you or Ruffnut," Gobber shrugged, "an' after that night, I like your way better. After all, he's always been able to sew, never been afraid o' making something."

Gobber peered at me then, and his stone tooth and braided moustache didn't seem quite so comical in the pre-dawn light. "Always been afraid of fighting, though, hasn't he? Until now."

I nodded, back straightening.

"Better get a move on, Astrid. He'll be there before you, at this rate," Gobber began to whistle as he turned to start the forge for the day. I wanted to thank him, to say something.

Then he threw a wink over his shoulder at me.

I didn't need to say anything, after all. I grinned at him until my face hurt, and was still grinning as I ran through the village and crashed into the forest.

Hiccup didn't show me his foot this morning either. But I taught him my favourite chokehold, and the balance of his hammer was perfect.

All in all, a better day.


	5. Chapter 5

Not mine, no money, no sue.

**Thank you so much to all who have reviewed! You guys are diamonds. **

* * *

Did I say better day? I must have been mental.

Spike, my pretty girl, I can't wait till you wake up. You and I could fly away from this mess. You could eat me. I'm sure being dragon food is better than this.

So I was going to Stoick's lodge. I'd thought about what Hiccup said last week, with the cloth and sewing and trade and all, and I was lugging a bolt of light green woollen that my mother said I could have. She certainly couldn't make any use of it. I was going to trade it for the repair of my axe. Really, it was perfect, the haft was neither too long or short, and it felt faster in my hands. No bolt of green woollen was enough to pay for that.

But as I came closer, I could hear voices raised inside the house. I could hear Stoick (everyone on the island could probably hear Stoick), and Hiccup, and…

Ruff and Tuff? _Tuff?_

"You'll wake him! Stop it, Dad!"

"Then tell me why you're not going to accept this! It's a perfect way out of this gods-forsaken war you've plunged us into!"

Oh no.

"Because… because I'm not! It's not right, Dad, it's not right for me! Can't you see that?" Hiccup sounded distressed.

"Give me a reason, other than 'because'! You're of age, I was younger than you when I married your mother, and the Gods know we didn't question our parents about it!"

"Chief… perhaps we ought to come back another time…?"

"Stay right where you are Thorston! You started this, you'll see it end!"

"Oh I am going to get so hurt, aren't I…"

"Shut up, Tuff!"

"You shut up, Ruff! This is your fault!"

"_My_ fault! If you hadn't botched this…"

"If _you_ weren't such a _girl… owwwwwww_."

"Please, could everyone just shut up?" Hiccup now sounded worried, and slightly scared. A moment later I heard why. A purling rumble, sleepy and angry, billowed through the air.

I burst in through the door, dropping the cloth on the floor. "Hiccup?" I gasped, "I'm sorry, I heard, from outside… is Toothless…?"

"What is _she_ doing here?" I distantly heard Ruff sneer.

"He's waking up," Hiccup wrung his hands. "Everyone, out! Now!"

Stoick's face was still red, but he glanced at the stirring dragon and at his son's tight expression. "Right. Right, you two." He pinned the twins with a glare that had sent men on the battlefield running for new trousers. "March."

"I'll wait outside," I told Hiccup as Stoick frogmarched the twins from the lodge.

"No, wait," he grabbed at my hand. His fingers were rough. "Stay. He likes you, likes your voice. We'll talk to him until he falls back into deep sleep."

"Umm." My hand felt too hot to be attached to my arm any more. "Okay. About what?"

"Ahhhh," Hiccup darted his eyes around the room, and then brightened as he spotted his hammer. "Training! Toothless, I've been training to fight, with Astrid!"

"He's getting better," I said to Toothless. It felt strange to be speaking to another sleeping dragon. I'll always prefer talking to you, though, Spike. "The hammer is absolutely the best choice for him. And he did a perfect tumble roll yesterday."

Hiccup rolled his eyes, and ran our clasped hands down Toothless's smooth, warm hide. "Yesterday. Couldn't manage it this morning though." He wouldn't look at me for some reason.

"It's okay, muscle memory, remember?" I chided him for his self-deprecation. "You've got to work this stuff into your muscles, it-"

"It takes a while, I know," Hiccup finished with scant humour. "Wish my muscles had better memories, though, instead of being Berk's five-year-running Forgetfulness Champions."

"You _are_ getting better, Hiccup," I told him, and together our hands petted the settling dragon. Toothless was calming and stilling, and he let out a final happy purr before his breathing assumed that slowness that told us the hibernation hadn't been interrupted.

Hiccup's mouth quirked, and he gently pulled a fur that had been dislodged back over Toothless's shoulders. Then he let my hand go… reluctantly, maybe? Or perhaps that's just wishful thinking. It felt like goodbye.

"Am I getting better fast enough, Astrid?" he murmured then, and his head bowed slightly. "Dad thinks the Brassies' ship will be here in a week or so. They'll have gathered all their clansmen and shieldmaidens. To stop a war, I'll have to fight Oglaranna, or marry her. I don't really want to do either."

I wanted to take his hand again, but since he'd been the one to let go, I didn't dare. Instead, I put a hand on his shoulder. Once again, my heart and body didn't collapse into a mush of _mmm hiccup shoulder mmm_. I just felt for the guy. What a mess.

"We'll keep training," I promised. "Twice a day, if you like. You'll be ready."

"Wish I was as sure as you," he muttered, and his eyes performed that now-familiar leftward glance, and then abrupt aversion.

I knew then that Gobber was right. I had to get him to open up about his leg, and before Oglaranna arrived. Or he'd never feel whole enough or trust himself enough to win.

However, right at that moment –

"He asleep?" Stoick's booming whisper echoed through the lodge. I saw Hiccup wince, then roll his eyes.

"He's back down for the count," he answered. "Out like a torch. But Dad, that was pushing it a bit far."

"Sorry, son," Stoick really did seem apologetic. "Not the best place for a shouting match in winter, I know I should remember. Never really can seem to."

"I guess I'll just keep reminding you," Hiccup said dryly, and pulled himself up off the floor.

"We do need to address this, son," Stoick said pointedly. "The Thorston boy wasn't exactly wrong about that."

"Dad," hissed Hiccup, and his eyes darted to me. "Come on, please, not now?"

"Then when? In a week, when that Frost Giantess hacks your head off your shoulders? Nay, son. We've got to get it done, and fast." Stoick looked regretful now, and Hiccup defiant.

"Get what done?" I asked suspiciously.

Hiccup's fists clenched. Then he rounded on me with anger and hurt dancing in his eyes. "Tuffnut dragged his sister over here, and claimed that she wants to marry me. That she's making his life Hel, what was it, 'mooning' over me. As though anyone would believe that. And he said she wasn't accepting the Jorgenson or Ingerman offers because of some stupid wager. With _you_."

I opened my mouth. And shut it again.

"We've got to get you married off, Hiccup," Stoick sighed. "Only way to stop this Oglaranna. Well, only way to stop her marrying you, nothing stopping her from chopping you into fishbait."

"You are always so cheerful," Hiccup said flatly. He hadn't stopped looking at me.

"Hiccup," I started weakly. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Astrid, please, just - Just leave it. I'll see you tomorrow – we'll train twice a day, whatever. But don't talk to me about this."

A promise I knew I'd need to break. I didn't want to. I fled.

It's a mess, Spike. I've made a mess. Hiccup will never believe that I can see him under the pretty wrapping or behind the hero reputation now.

I don't hate Ruffnut, I hate _me_.

* * *

I think… I don't know what to think.

Long day, Spike.

It's been two days since he found out about the wager with Ruff. I've trained with Hiccup three times. Each time he's been polite, attentive, and _not Hiccup_. He doesn't grin in a crooked line. He doesn't make snarky little quips every time he lands on his arse. He just nods, and off we go again.

New Hiccup… is awful. I want my Hiccup back.

But I chased him away, with a stupid bet. I didn't trust him. I didn't trust the… understanding we had.

I'm not looking forward to training tonight. It was the highlight of my day, and now I'm dreading it.

* * *

Stoick grabbed me this afternoon, Spike, on my way down to the old training ring to see you.

"What in the name of all the Gods is going on with you and Hiccup?" he growled, dragging me into the empty Gronkle pen.

I pulled my arm out of his grasp. "I think you were there, _Chief_. You can't have forgotten already. Or do I need to remind you? There was a dragon, some twins, Hiccup and I, and a bet…"

"Yes, yes," he muttered. "You mean to say you haven't fixed this yet? He's got _five days!_"

"Fixed…? My Chief. With all due respect, you are a massive bearded idiot." I sighed, and pushed my fringe back. "Hiccup doesn't want to forgive me. And I don't blame him."

"You want the Thorston girl to have him?" Stoick's eyebrows almost disappeared under his helmet. I bristled.

"No! But it's his choice!" I crossed my arms. "Besides, he's not forgiven her either."

"She was around today with a stew her mother had made," Stoick said flatly. "An' she hung off him and moaned and wept until he had to give in out of sheer fluster."

"Wept? _Ruffnut_?"

"Quite the performance," Stoick said in a non-committal tone.

"Why, that…" I fumed, biting off the words before I could make it any worse.

"Now, missy," Stoick easily heaved a dry bale of kitty-grass over and sat down. "Tell me what you aren't telling me. And why you haven't made it up with my boy even though it's making you both miserable as a pair of sick sheep."

I gaped, and then tried not to. This was not a conversation I really wanted to have with Hiccup's _dad_.

"Well…"

"No hemming and hawing. No lies. And no edging 'round the truth." Stoick crossed his ankles and leaned back, obviously settling himself in for a long wait. I eyed the door nervously. He'd placed himself between me and escape.

"No getting out of it, either," he added, almost cheerfully.

I sighed again, and sat down on another bale. It was old, musty and scratchy. The Gronkle had obviously used it as a chew toy, as it smelled vaguely of dragon-gas. "I don't like this," I warned him.

"Not expectin' you to," he said pleasantly. "Start talking."

"Well, Hiccup and I… well. Hiccup. Before he went away."

"Yes?"

"We were, sort of… well, there was an understanding. We understood each other. It was… nice. He was Hiccup, and I was Astrid and we… belonged. It was… understood."

"Oh aye. The whole village_ understood_. You made your feelings quite plain about each other."

"Right. Yes, right, we did! Everyone knew! And then, well, you were away for a long time, a very long time. And Hiccup…"

"Aye?"

"He was. Different. Looked different."

"Mmhm. Grew up, didn't he? Children tend to do that. He's ended up looking a lot like my Valhallarama. Beautiful woman, she was."

"He's. He. Well. It shocked me. Made me stupid. I didn't realise…"

"Go on."

"He's still just Hiccup inside. He's still just Hiccup. He looks like _that_ and doesn't even know. He still thinks he's Hiccup the Useless, that his foot makes him less than anyone else, that he's only tolerated because of the dragons. He can't actually see how amazing the things he's done are, the things he _is_. He still says silly, sarcastic things, and smiles like a kid…"

"Aye. I like his doltish grin, though. It's very him."

"Oh, so do I! And I like the way he concentrates when he works, and the way he treats dragons like people, and his face when he's learning a new thing, and…" I stopped, realising I was rattling along, just like I do to you, Spike, and that the Chief, Hiccup's _father_, was encouraging me. _Sweet Odin preserve me_.

Stoick tilted his head, and he smiled at me. Maybe. It's hard to tell with the beard, sometimes.

"You can still see him, can't you," he said with approval. I think. Beard again.

"Look, I made that awful agreement with Ruffnut because she couldn't," I said heatedly. "Even though I was a bit… blinded, I soon knew that he was still _him_. I tried. I'm still trying, though it gets a bit tricky when he's close or when he smiles… but now I'm not sure how much of that is how he looks or because it's _Hiccup_. She looks at him… and… and…"

I stood. I was angry again. And it felt good. Gods, even though I love you, Spike, it felt good to be talking to someone who responded.

"She wants him to leave you and your home. She wants to take him back to her family's hall," I fumed, pacing. "She wants to make him leave his inventing and his plans in their stable – and she wants to keep Toothless out there too! She wants to make him into a high-status _bauble_. He'd hate it!"

"He would," Stoick agreed, "he loves his loft full of gadgets. And that beast has run of the whole damned place. I can't say no to the boy, not after how I treated him."

"And that's just it!" I cried, stalking back and forth now. "I made that wager, that _stupid_ agreement, all so I wouldn't lose Hiccup. Because at first I was crazy about how he looked, and then I was crazy about someone else having him, but now I'm just crazy that he'll be miserable. I just want him to be happy. I stopped caring about the stupid bet that night in the mead-hall, when Ruff tried to make him show his new foot to everyone. I bet she thinks it's just a pretty decoration and can't even consider how much it costs him to acknowledge it at all!"

"It's both. It's a foot and a pretty decoration now," rumbled Stoick thoughtfully. "And a clever one. But did Hiccup tell you anything about Ruckus, the smith back in Brass Monkey?"

"Only that he was a great smith," I huffed, irritable now that my anger had been derailed.

"He's got no hands," Stoick folded his arms. "A smith with no hands, not even one, like Gobber. His wife puts his hands on, every day, a hook and a hammer. If he needs them changed, he calls for her. And he married her long after he lost them."

I was shocked. No hands. "How did he…"

"Ruckus was originally from another village. He fought to stop a raiding party to a poor coastal area on the mainland. His people were too eager for a fight. Trumped-up charges of adultery and thieving were issued. His family was too powerful for him to be killed, and so they chopped off his hands and exiled him instead." Stoick stood. "Think about that awhile, Astrid. Ruckus is a great man. But he needs to lean on someone, now and again."

He scratched under his helmet, then nodded to me. "Get him to talk to you. You're meeting him in the morning, aren't you?"

I nodded dumbly.

He stood. "Good." Then he smiled again. Maybe.

Beard again.

I don't know about this, Spike. Stoick wants to get his son married off, as quickly as possible. Is he really thinking about Hiccup, here? And me… am I even sure that I'm right for him?

And would he want me now, anyway?

* * *

My mother was waiting for me last night.

"What's this about you and the Haddock boy?" she screeched. Odin and Thor, I hope I don't sound like Mum when I'm angry.

"What about us?" I said defiantly.

"That he's no longer walking with you! He's with Bloodnut Thorston's girl! It's all over the mead-hall! Have you _destroyed_this family with your idiocy, Astrid?"

I felt my stomach turn to ice. I've been awake all night.

I'm about to meet Hiccup for training, and it's a choice between horrible, painful conversation, and indifferent, stilted politeness. Which is horrible too.

And there are four days left.


	6. Chapter 6

Not mine, no money, no sue.

**So many thanks to all you awesome reviewers! And so, because I simply can't allow Lady Bronte to lose her mind (lovely review, thank you!) and because, yup, The Antic Repartee, you're right ;) - here is the next one!**

**Without further ado, have some angst.**

* * *

"Hiccup?"

He was looking away from me as he swung the hammer, loosening his arm. He barely twitched when I spoke.

"Hiccup, _please_."

I no longer cared that my voice was close to furious tears. I no longer cared that he thought I was just like Ruffnut. I just wanted him to look at me, once.

"Let's just spar," he sighed. And crouched down, hammer held before him.

I threw down my axe. "No."

He sighed again, but his eyes were still resolutely looking past my face. "Astrid, I need to learn this. Muscle memory. I'll learn, and then we'll go our different ways, all right?"

"No!" I growled. "No, I don't want that!"

His grip shifted on the hammer. "You have to defend yourself. Never lose your weapon. Rule three. You taught me that."

"I did," I stood up as tall as I could.

"So pick. It. Up," he bit. For a second, hurt and anger blazed from him, and I felt it. Felt something other than icy indifference from him.

_Good_.

"No," I spat. "N. O. _No_. Trouble with your hearing, Hiccup?"

His eyes actually snapped to me. "Trouble with your _axe_, Astrid?"

"Oh, nothing's wrong with it," I held his gaze, and as before, refused to let it go. "Only, I don't think it's mine anymore. You see, a friend fixed it. A very special friend. And I hurt him, thoughtlessly, stupidly. And now he can't even see me. So I don't think I deserve it."

Hiccup's eyes were suddenly incandescent with fury. "You can still see him, though, can you?" he snarled at me. Oh, but he was beautiful angry as well. But there was a skinny fourteen year old screaming inside that lovely exterior. And I hadn't trusted him.

"I can now. I couldn't then," I raised my chin, holding myself as still as a stone in front of Hiccup's poised blow. The hammer was now trembling – with anger? I couldn't tell.

"Oh really? You can… Am I some sort of a game to you? A prize to be won in a dragon-racing contest?" he snarled. "My dad has to think that way, and I suppose Ruff always has, but _you_…"

I stayed silent. I didn't know what to say.

"I get it, okay? I get it. I'm just a toy, a rope tugged between two teams for fun. Not like stupid useless Hiccup actually feels any…" He broke off, breathing hard.

"Hiccup, I'm sorry," I began, but he raised the hammer higher.

"Are you? Do you know what you even did?" he said wildly.

"I didn't trust you," I replied flatly. "I didn't trust _us_."

His face twisted up, and he gripped the hammer harder, before whirling fast as Toothless on his metal foot and hurling the thing against the nearest tree. Then he sank down onto a boulder, his face in his hands.

"Why did you _do_ that, Astrid?" his voice was muffled from between his fingers, then he ran them roughly through reddish hair, staring at the ground. "Were you bored with me? Did I do something wrong? Was I away too long, or was I always just a joke to you? Did you find someone else, then? I thought I knew. When I went away, I knew, we... that I was yours, you… were m-mine, it was all…"

"Understood," I breathed.

He nodded miserably. "Everyone _knew_."

"Oh, Hiccup," I sighed. He _still_ didn't realise.

I wasn't brave enough to go over to him. Instead, I went to stand over by the stream running through the cove, and I stared into it. Heavy, silver fish flashed by. How to explain.

Maybe…

"Hiccup, did you think I'd changed?" I asked softly. "When you came back. Six months away. Was I different? Look different?"

Hiccup's voice was still muffled. I didn't dare turn around. "Not really. Still Astrid, still blonde hair, blue eyes, still…" a swallow, "beautiful. But I didn't think you were different." A snort. "And I'm still always wrong."

I watched the fish. "No, you weren't wrong. You were right. I hadn't changed. A bit older. Bit taller. But not really. You changed though. A lot."

His voice was less muffled; he'd brought his head out of his hands. "I got taller…?"

"You got gorgeous, Hiccup," I smiled sadly. "Absolutely stunningly gorgeous. Ruffnut said you were Baldur and Freyr with the legs of Honir. She wanted you the minute you got off that boat."

"I… _what? What?_" Hiccup all but squawked. I shook my head.

"It… took me out of my mind for a day or so. I knew you were still, you know, Hiccup Haddock, my loveable little dweeb, but someone replaced you with this outrageously handsome man. It took a while for me to find you again. But one of the first things that happened whilst I was out of my mind was Ruffnut telling me she was setting her cap for you."

Hiccup was making choking sounds. I continued to resist turning around. I couldn't look at him. I needed to keep talking to the Hiccup in my memory, the one my height, with shorter hair and a slightly too-long face.

"I was terrified," I confessed. The words stuck in my mouth, I had to spit them out. "Ruffnut Thorston is pretty, wealthy, and well-connected. Her family are rich traders, she knows all sorts of things I don't, fancy cooking, that sort of thing. My father is dead these twelve years, and my mother is a shieldmaiden with myself and my little brother to care for. We're… we're poor. And the reason I'm always half in armour is because neither of us can sew." That little confession physically tugged at me like a loose tooth. "I was scared of losing you to her." So did that one.

"She baited me, I baited her," I continued. "I hated the idea that anyone could have you who wasn't me. And with the way you are now, well, I think we were both a bit crazy. But I was crazier. Because, see, I took her bait, though I should have known better. Mostly because her plans for you, well, they would have made you miserable. And a tiny part of me still knew that, and was just _so angry_ for you. That tiny part of me still knew _you_ were inside that… all that, and just wanted you to be happy. But it was still tiny, that part."

Hiccup was silent now. I could hear birds on the other side of the valley. I could hear his breathing.

"By the very next day, I knew that you didn't have any idea about how you'd changed. Or even that Ruffnut was trying to impress you. And I'd realised, dimly, that inside, you hadn't changed at all. You didn't even realise why that Brassie chieftess was so keen on you, or why I was going red when you went about shirtless." I smiled at the fish.

Hiccup made a sort of squeaking noise.

"Remember our first training session? We talked about how weaknesses show your strengths, and you made some bitter joke about how the list was at home. I saw the real Hiccup then, for the first time since you came back. My Hiccup. And I was furious that you could still believe all those horrible things about yourself, that all you'd ever been focused on was weaknesses, imaginary or no. I was so angry for you. Again.

"But it was the day we had that fight at dinner that I _really_ got it," I sat down on the bank and dabbled my fingers in the water. It was freezing cold, and I let that distract me from the again-growing lump in my throat. "I wanted to see the carvings on your new foot. They looked lovely, and some of them looked like they were on the _metal_, and I didn't know how anyone could do that without a wax mold. But you…"

"It's an acid," Hiccup mumbled suddenly. "It's a liquid that scratches at metal like a chisel. It burns the skin, though."

My eyes closed. "Don't interrupt the longest apology you're ever going to get," I teased gently. But my heart was singing. He'd spoken to me, even if to cover his discomfort about his foot being mentioned.

"It was your foot, Hiccup, that opened my eyes," I opened them now. "The way you try to ignore it, the way you hate for it to be acknowledged in any way. As though you want to believe it isn't there."

"It's… it's not like I don't know," Hiccup muttered, and the bitterness he always hid was now immensely apparent.

"You always did that," I forged ahead. "Before you went away. Even before you lost it, you'd pretend to ignore – or even joke about - the things you hated but couldn't change. Your height, your strength, your loneliness. Until you couldn't. I saw it again that night at dinner. Ruff kept pushing at you, and you were unhappy. No jokes left, and no way out. And then you got angry."

"She insulted you," Hiccup remembered.

"And I didn't care," I replied. "I didn't care. I would have dragged her outside and thrashed her if I'd been my normal self, but all I could think about was you – and you being unhappy. That once tiny part that knew you were behind that gorgeous face was now all there was of me. The part that cared about _you_. My Hiccup, the Hiccup I'd always known, who was clever and awkward and sarcastic and silly. Not the beautiful face, but the beautiful... soul."

I have never felt so awkward, so clumsy and exposed. I don't _do_ that sort of thing. But he needed to know. That was more important.

Hiccup made that choking noise again. I heard the click of his metal foot.

I watched the fish.

"I told Ruff," I remembered, "not to push you about your foot. I told her not to call you 'Hic', because you hate it. And I thought: she's not allowed to hurt you. Even if you chose her, she wasn't allowed to hurt you. And I still didn't realise that I'd already done that, that I'd sown the seeds in a fit of jealousy and resentment and fear."

My throat was growing very dry. I've also never talked so long without anyone interrupting. My eyes hurt. I hated it, every second. I've never felt so… naked.

"You did it again, you know," I said, and my voice sounded slow and thick to my own ears. The fish darted closer to me, tame as dragons. "You thought you weren't a Viking. But Hiccup, a Viking is where you're from. You're a Viking no matter what. If you're born in Gaul, you're a Gaul, if you're born in Denmark, you're a Dane. You're a Viking. You're from Berk. And I meant it, that day. You're the best, the very best of us."

I pushed at the fishes' silvery noses, tickled their broad sides. "Hiccup, if you don't want me, if we don't have an… an understanding any more, then I'll… I get it. I'll leave you alone, and you can choose Ruffnut, or whoever your father finds for you. But I want you to know, whatever you choose, that I'm sorry. I hurt you, and I lost who you were, and I'm so sorry."

I stood, and finally turned to face him. His face looked pale, and bewildered, and very, very lost. He just stared at me, mouth slightly slack. The silence stretched out between us, painfully thin. I felt so empty after all those words.

"I'll leave you to think," I dropped my eyes and stepped away.

He immediately lunged at me. "Nonononono," he blurted, and grabbed my wrist – and instinct, or maybe muscle memory, took over.

I span, automatically twisting his wrist painfully behind him, but he retaliated, spinning in turn out of my hold, and suddenly long arms were holding both of mine behind me, one of his elbows pressed against my throat.

My favourite chokehold. I huffed a laugh through my hurt and discomfort.

"Don't, please don't go, Astrid," Hiccup was staring at me now. His face was still bewildered, but the lost look was gone. I was simply glad he was looking at me again. Green eyes, green as a Night Fury's. Green as summer. I'd missed them. And though his longer hair made them appear even greener, they were still the same shape.

"Look what you did," I croaked, smiling at him and tugging at the hold. He'd done it perfectly.

He looked gobsmacked. Again. I liked it on him as much as I always had.

He released me abruptly, his hands hovering at my shoulders, before he dropped them to swing uselessly by his side . "Um. Did I hurt you?"

"Nope, all fine," I rubbed my throat. "See? Muscle memory!"

"Yeah, I did it! I did it, wow. Yeah." He looked down for a moment, then his chin jerked up.

And he punched me in the arm.

"Ow! Hey!" I rubbed at it. It really did hurt.

"That," he said with a certain amount of smug satisfaction, "was for hurting me, and forgetting who I was."

"Hiccup!" I groaned, but I was suddenly aflutter with what might come next.

He didn't disappoint. Long fingers wrapped around my shoulders, and very soft, very insistent lips pressed themselves to mine. My chin was tilted back and I was trying hard not to cry, even as my head swam.

"That's for, well," he whispered, his forehead resting on mine. "You know."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on as hard as I dared. "Hiccup, I…"

"I know. Me too." His hand pushed my too-long fringe away from my eyes. "Oh, I've wanted you forever. Gods, Astrid, you are so beautiful, so stubborn and strong. I can't believe you couldn't tell."

"What?" I was incredulous. "Me? Tell what?"

"That I love you, genius," he teased softly. "I love you so much. I must give myself away a hundred times a day. I swear, I'm never so stupid as when I'm with you."

"Oh," my mouth was dry. "I was about to say I'm sorry. Again."

"Oh," he pulled back sharply. "Oh. Well, ah, see what I mean?" he joked weakly. I grabbed his face and pulled his forehead back down to mine.

My chest was tight again, full and tight with the thought of him, the nearness. His breath was sweet and he smelled like metal, leather, clean sweat and woodsmoke.

I'd spent so much time playing with the fish, I hadn't ever seen how clear the water was. And it was suddenly so clear, so clear.

"But I love you too, idiot," I growled. "I love you. So stop that."

"Ah," he said, diplomatically I thought, and relaxed against me once more.

The silence wasn't all that thin anymore. But eventually, he broke it with;

"Do you _really_ think I'm _gorgeous_?"

And he _still_ doesn't believe me.

"Hiccup, _gods_!" I buried my face against his shoulder and fought for patience. I was exhausted inside and simply wanted to be near him, and quiet, and soak up some of what we'd regained. But I needed to see it through, I suppose.

"Astrid, you can't be serious," he sounded very logical and practical. "I'm too skinny, I'm not strong, I'm all freckled, except when I burn, and I'm missing…"

I felt his body tense. "Go on," I commanded him in a low voice.

"I'm missing my left foot," he said in a very small voice. It might have been the very first time he'd ever said it aloud.

"Yes," I snapped my head up to glare at him. "You are. Hiccup, you're missing a foot. But you are without doubt the handsomest, most stunning, cleverest and bravest man there has ever been to walk this island, with two feet or none!"

"Astrid, it's awful," he blurted. "It's…"

"It's part of you," I kept my glare up. I was getting good at staring down those big green eyes. It was a skill that might come in handy. "Show me."

"Astrid," he moaned.

"I love you, Hiccup," I lifted my chin. It was easier to say it the second time. "All of you. And that includes scars and steel and missing limb. Show me."

"It's not…" he swallowed and looked away. "It's awful."

"Yes. You said," I pushed him back down on the boulder. "Show. Me."

He flushed, and then started pulling at his leggings. The left leg was bound, not with leather straps as Gobber's had been, but with a kind of leather and steel harness that fit up to Hiccup's knee. He unbuckled it reluctantly, and I sensed the reliance he felt on his creation of metal and wood and leather. I put my hand on his.

"Hiccup." I tried to regain my calmest voice. My gentlest. "Let me."

His breath stopped. His hands were shaking, tense and stiff, but finally he gave my hand a squeeze and dropped his own into his lap.

I found the other buckle on the other side of the leg, and undid it as gently as I could. Hiccup seemed afraid to move, afraid to breathe. I traced a carving, etching rather, on the oiled metal base of the foot. It was beautiful, so elegant and graceful. I patted the side of his knee reassuringly, and drew off the cylindrical harness. Underneath was a leather sock somewhat like Gobber's lambswool one. I felt, rather than heard, Hiccup's indrawn breath of apprehension. Of fear.

"Hiccup," I said steadily and looked up into his once-more pale face, "if we move forward with this, you have to be sure you're okay about me seeing your leg. Because that means you're not okay with me seeing a part of you. And that _really_ means _you're_ not okay with part of you." I leaned forward. "You're still clinging to this idea that you need to be like everyone else. You're like nobody else. That's… that's why I... that's _why_. And this," I rubbed his knee, "this is still you, as much as anything else is. And it doesn't matter how it got that way, either."

He looked down at his truncated leg, and then back at me. "Um," he managed.

"What is it?" I rubbed his knee again.

"It sort of does matter," he muttered, "how it got that way, I mean."

"I know," I decided to cut across the fumbling and the words. "I know it was Toothless. That he saved your life, but it cost your leg. I know you felt angry, and guilty that you felt angry at him. That you hate being reminded of it, in part, because it makes you feel guilty for blaming your best friend."

His eyes grew the largest I had ever, ever seen them. "Who… _who told you that_?" he gasped.

"Gobber told me about Toothless," I said bluntly. "The rest because I know you."

He fell back, his hands falling behind him to brace against the boulder. "I don't blame... Gobber knew?" he croaked.

"Gobber knows dragons, and he knows you," I replied. "I'm the only one he told."

A small fire of anger was now rekindled in Hiccup's eyes. "Why did he tell you?" he exclaimed.

"Because he thought I needed to know," I snapped back. "And was he right to tell me?"

Hiccup's mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to stoke his anger, but eventually his head fell back with a groan. "He was right."

"Thought so," I answered. I touched the leather tube around his leg. "Can I?"

He looked at it with thinly veiled distaste. "I don't know why you want to," he muttered. "Still, be my guest."

I shook my head. "Hiccup, I already told you why I want to. Now," I started working the leather sleeve off his leg, discovering that it was lined with lambswool after all, "you might feel fine about hating and ignoring a whole part of you, but I'm not."

The sock came off abruptly, and I inspected the inside briefly. "Hmm. You sewed this?" I asked him.

"Ah, yes," he said, clearly incredibly uncomfortable at having his leg revealed, and bewildered that I hadn't looked at it yet.

"You are something else," I shook my head and smiled. "Maybe you can teach me."

"It's not hard," he said, and shrugged awkwardly. I reached for his hand and gave it another squeeze. Then I lifted his knee and gently straightened it out.

There was maybe a handslength, maybe a little more, of his shin still attached under the knee. The thick, angry scars were not as red as Gobber had led me to believe, the neat rows of toothmarks clearly visible on the sides of the leg. The end had obviously been sawn off, and skin stretched over it to create the neat cap. It was cold in the crisp morning air, and goosepimples were forming on his knee.

"Oh, awful, is it?" I smiled at the leg. "Honestly, Hiccup. You're afraid to acknowledge this?"

"It's pretty awful, yeah," he sounded defensive. "You know, the whole best friend ripping off a limb thing, and trying not to be angry that it's gone, and hey look, guilt 'cos he saved my life, and the scars and prickling and phantom pain and the learning how to do everything all over again…"

"Like fly?" I ran my hand over the bumps and valleys of the pinkish scars. In a few years, they'd be silver.

"Like flying, right!" Hiccup crossed his arms, and then shuddered uncontrollably when I ran my finger over the bumpy ridge of a bite-scar.

I pressed my lips against the ridged line where a battlefield sawbones had pulled a flap of his skin closed over the wound that was spilling out his life. "Hiccup, you idiot," I breathed against his scar.

"What?" he asked irritably, and then swallowed hard when he saw what I had done.

"Say, as awful as learning to fly after your best friend injured you for life, ensuring that you'd never be able to do it for yourself again?" I tapped his knee significantly.

"What do you mean? I can fly Toothless just-ohhhhh," he breathed out, his eyes suddenly guilty. "I know. I know. I did that. But he forgave me... and I don't blame him for...I _don't_..."

"Relax," I nudged him, "he knows exactly what you're going through. He's probably been through every single moment, had every thought you've had. And he loves you."

"But he never… and I spent all that time… he never… I was just so _angry_…" Hiccup looked stricken.

I nodded. "And you'll spend more. It's not something we can fix overnight, Hiccup. But we'll get there. Just don't hide it from me, okay?"

He still looked worried, but his nod was decisive. "Deal. As long as you tell me any time you think you're likely to forget who I am again," he retorted dryly.

"That's less likely, but deal," I kissed his knee and stood up. He seemed unsure, until I rolled my eyes, and pulled him up by the forearms. He hopped once, before his arm fell naturally onto my shoulders. "See? We fit," I said softly.

"Astrid, I can't just…" Hiccup began. _Again_.

"You can too," I said firmly. "Get used to the idea that you'll be leaning on me for a long, long time, Hiccup Haddock."

He gave me a long, searching look, and then he smiled. It was utterly radiant. "I could get used to it," he said.


	7. Chapter 7

Not mine, no money, no sue.

**Thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter! It is so gratifying to know people are enjoying this!**

* * *

I'm getting married, Spike.

Oh my dear, sweet gods, I'm getting married.

This is a bit terrifying.

Just a bit, though. Because I'd rather be getting married to Hiccup than _not_ getting married to Hiccup that's for sure.

It's rushed. It's all so rushed. It's winter, so food's a bit tight. The feast is likely to be a bit of a sad affair, but Stoick said we can have another one when the warm weather hits. I'm simply glad my mother found her bridal crown. It's Odins-day. So two days.

Two days, and I'll be married. The day after, I could be widowed.

I'm trying not to think about that.

Stoick wasn't the least bit surprised when Hiccup told him, awkwardly clutching my hand. He just (maybe? I am so glad Hiccup didn't grow his beard!) smiled a bit smugly at me. Then he yanked his door open and bellowed out into the freezing day to the few men outside to 'get your rumps in here, right now!'

Hiccup made the declaration of _handsal_ before his father, Spitelout Jorgenson, Hensteeth Ingerman, Crosseyes Gudmunsson, Bob the Sled, Phil the Sheep, the sleeping Toothless and me. Stoick simply grabbed whoever was outside the lodge to act as witnesses in his eagerness. It was all incredibly irregular and the poor boy stammered through the whole thing.

My mother actually _cried_ when Hiccup formally asked permission. Whoa, time out. I mean, my Mum doesn't cry. She's a _shieldmaiden_. I don't think she cried when they burned Dad. But she actually got all blubbery and hugged me as tightly as I've ever been hugged, and then grabbed Hiccup and did the same. Hiccup looked like he was going to die of embarrassment, but patted her back clumsily. "Um, thanks, Gerda," he mumbled. I smirked at him.

"Call m-me Mum," she said damply, and tweaked his cheek. "Such a ha-ha-haaaaandsome s-son I'm getting," she sobbed.

Hiccup gave me a look of silent helplessness. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hold off laughing.

"Okay" he said uncertainly. "Er… Mum."

Mum absolutely _bawled_ at that and clutched at him harder. I pried her off and dragged him outside before I keeled over in hysterics.

"Astrid, your mum was… never like that before," Hiccup said weakly as I dragged him back towards the smithy. Thankfully he'd developed that spiked snow-and-ice foot, so he was able to make it easily. "All… soggy, I mean."

So. Hard. To keep. Serious face on.

I made a strangled little noise that could be taken as agreement.

"She pinched my cheek," Hiccup groaned in absolute mortification. "I mean, come on, no-one over the age of four should have their cheek pinched. There should be a law."

"Mmm," I managed and pushed him into the smithy in front of me. As he turned back to me, running a hand through his hair, I slammed the door and leaned on it, and finally broke into gales and gales of laughter right in his astonished face.

"Oh… oh gods! Your _face!_" I gasped once I'd got my breath – mostly. "When she… ahahA… aha… she _pinched_ your _cheek!_"

Hiccup's expression was a trifle wounded, but the twitch of his lips told me he could also see the funny side. "Is it some sort of Hofferson humiliation ritual?"

"Aha… Ahmm…" I wiped at my eyes, "I never, ever, not in a million years thought my mother would react like that."

"That was pretty terrible," Hiccup protested, his lip still twitching. I decided to go along with it.

"Aw, poor thing," I said sympathetically. "Come here."

Now, all our earlier kisses, including the one in Toothless' cove, had been innocent, in a way. The pecks on the cheek and lips when we were children pretending to be more. The soft, sweet affirmation of the day before.

So when I tell you that Hiccup pushed me up against the door and _plundered_ my mouth… well. It was a… revelation, to say the least.

My breath abruptly caught somewhere in my throat, and I clutched at him reflexively, desperately. One of his hands pushed possessively through my hair and the other grabbed at my hip. His mouth was insistent and warm and wet, kissing me fast and sloppy and _wonderful_. It was all so wonderful. I moaned. I had no idea that this was inside Hiccup.

"You… gonna kiss it better?" he breathed, before kissing me again. This time his tongue moved into my mouth and brushed against mine.

Oh. _Oh._

An answering spark of sensation tightened in my core when he did that. My eyes flew open in surprise and I growled in pleasure.

"You… bet," I breathed back throatily. For Thor's sake, was that my _voice?_ "You've… obviously suffered and… should be rewarded."

"Mmm," he answered, smiling against my lips, before diving into them again. My arms tightened around his shoulders, my fingers digging hard enough to bruise. I'd started breathing again, but so fast, so very fast…

Hiccup played against my tongue for some time, before I decided to take the reins, moving from his lovely searching mouth and kissing down that thin throat. The sharp burr of his stubble felt incredible under my lips. I had no idea what I was doing, but kept mouthing and nipping down his neck until I finally came to that beautiful collarbone. The temptation was too much, and I did as I'd wanted to for _weeks_ and bit it, hard.

Hiccup's strangled groan ignited another spark in me, and his hand convulsively tightened on my hip.

And then a voice said, "Ah, good t' know the fight's over then, but I've been waiting to get out for five minutes."

I lost my breath again, and Hiccup's eyes snapped open, staring at me in horror.

"Tell me we didn't just make out in front of Gobber," he whispered to me.

"Ah, I have some bad news," I whispered back, looking over his shoulder. Gobber was standing there, looking incredibly amused, his arms folded and an eyebrow raised.

"Oh no," Hiccup whimpered.

"So I'm guessing that there'll be a feast this Friggas-day?" Gobber was obviously enjoying himself immensely.

"That's right," I answered as calmly as I could. No way I was going to be embarrassed, though Hiccup was going a violent shade of red.

"Congratulations," said Gobber dryly.

* * *

Wow. Okay, dinner tonight was…

If I needed any more proof that Hiccup was still Hiccup, well, tonight was it. The sheer, unadulterated _awkward_.

He looked distracted when he walked into the mead-hall. When he saw me, he brightened visibly and hurried over. That could go to a girl's head.

"Hey," he greeted me briefly, but his smile was warm. "So, I've got my family's sword from the barrow – don't ask – and I know it doesn't have to be perfect or anything, but I was wondering whether you could help me practise the stabbity-the-post thing? Oh, hi guys," he added to Snotlout and Tuffnut who were sitting across from me.

"Sword?" asked Snotlout suspiciously, looking between us.

"Um, yeah," Hiccup replied, blushing like a furnace.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the bench. "Sure, I'll help you practise. But your hammer is still more important, Hiccup, you have to concentrate on that."

He sighed gustily, and tapped the mostly-finished hammer strapped to his side. "I know, I know. But I've only got tomorrow to figure out the sword, and hey look, a whole two days to get my Thor on."

"Quit worrying," I nudged him in the side. "Eat something."

Sometimes it's hard to be Viking-impassive in front of everyone all the time. Glad I can talk to you, Spike my girl. Because I can tell you that I had thought about what could happen on that third day, and I was scared. Scared to lose him.

As Hiccup piled up his plate, Tuffnut leaned forward with sly interest all over his face. "Soooo, stabbing a post sometime soon then, Hiccup?"

Hiccup dropped the piece of mutton he'd been picking up. "Ummm…."

"Dude!" Snotlout smacked him between the shoulderblades, knocking Hiccup's plate out of his hands, "you're getting married? Dude!"

"Knew she'd catch you eventually," Tuff grinned.

"Er," I said.

"She was making life miserable. Mum was going out of her head, trying to get everything she asked for sewn up," Tuff continued. "Ruff always did get what she wanted in the end."

Hiccup picked up the plate. "Ah, Tuff? I think you have sort of exactly the wrong idea…"

"How is _Hiccup_ the first one of us to get married?" Snotlout joked, "The gods have a crazy sense of humour."

"Hey, question really is, how is Hiccup the first one of us to score any _tail_?" Tuff sniggered at Snotlout, who gave a tragic sigh.

"I guess that means you and I are going to have to move to Phlock," he told Tuff, "since Astrid here won't…" he then waggled his eyebrows at me.

"Since I'm marrying Hiccup, your chances have dwindled to 'not in this life _or_ the next'," I replied calmly, taking a sip of my water.

Tuff dropped his fork.

"Not…" and his eyes slowly fixed on Hiccup, who shook his head.

"It was never going to happen, Tuff," he mumbled. "I've… I've been in love with Astrid since I was, like, ten years old. Ruff is… well, she's an absolutely terrifying woman, but she can't scare me the way Astrid can."

I felt an incredible warm glow at that.

"Oh, Gjalp and Ginnungagap, who's going to tell her?" Tuff whimpered. "And can I move to Phlock first?"

"Coward," I said flatly.

"You didn't have to live with her," Tuff moaned. "She's a nightmare, except she doesn't set herself on fire, she sets herself on _pure crazy_."

"You're… marrying Hiccup," Snotlout said faintly.

"Yes," I said, and grabbed that clever, long-fingered hand. His fingers curled through mine automatically, and I tried to hide my smile.

"Life is not fair," Snotlout grumbled. "Will you wait for the harvest?"

"Nope, not fair," I agreed.

"We, er, have to make it as soon as possible," Hiccup's voice was both happy and worried. I squeezed his hand.

Both pairs of eyes were now round as saucers.

"_No. Way,_" said Snotlout incredulously.

"Man, you _didn't_!" Tuff breathed. "So Astrid is…"

"No!" I slammed my cup down. "NO. I'm not, and we haven't."

"Oh gods," Hiccup moaned.

"You, be quiet," I nudged him again, "because every time you speak, disasters happen."

"Wow," Snotlout smacked his back again, and Hiccup choked. "Way to _go_, cuz."

"But…!"

"Guys, I'm not…" I began, but Tuff started pulling at his hair.

"My life is officially over," he groaned, "Hiccup had sex before _me_."

"We haven't…!" I said hotly, but Snotlout was elbowing Hiccup conspiratorially now.

"So how was it, tiger? Gimme the details. Did you make her…" and here he made a gesture that set Hiccup's face aflame again. I growled.

"For Odin's sake, I AM NOT PREGNANT!" I yelled.

The sudden silence in the hall was deafening. Every head was turned towards us.

I groaned, and my head dropped to the table. Hard.

I felt someone clumsily patting my back. Hiccup. "Um," he said to the assembled clansmen and women. "So, if you didn't catch all that, uh, well, Astrid and I are getting married on Friggas-day. And there was no… ah, prior…" he gave me a look that clearly said, 'help!'

"We haven't ruined anyone's reputation," I said clearly and angrily, "I was trying to convince a pair of idiots."

Snotlout and Tuffnut grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," Snotlout waved weakly.

"You're _what?_" Ruff's voice shrieked into the silence.

"Oh no," Tuffnut whimpered, and sank under the table.

"Ah, anyone for ale?" Snotlout hurriedly stood and scurried over to the barrels, where he hid.

Ruffnut stormed over to us, and an outbreak of whispering amongst the tribe followed her. "Congratulations, _Astrid_," she hissed at me. "Lessons paid off then, I hear."

"Nothing happened!" I snarled.

"Like I believe it," she said crossly, and leaned over to stab her dagger into and _through_ my plate. "Outside. Now. Or are you afraid to _hurt the baby_?"

I tried to regard her calmly.

It wasn't working.

"Ruffnut," said Hiccup, and his voice was surprisingly firm and low. "I don't love you. I love Astrid. I always have." His eyes met mine, serious and warm. "She's everything to me."

"You'd follow anyone who showed you a bit of kindness," she whirled, and when she looked at him there was a touch of pain in her eyes.

That was a surprise. I didn't think she actually _cared_ for him.

Still, insults delivered had to be answered. I stood. "My axe is at home. Can I borrow someone's?"

"Oh no, please, Astrid, Ruff," Hiccup sank down lower on the bench and put his head in his hands.

"Has to be done, love," I said bluntly.

"But fighting like this over—wait, did you just call me…"

"Here," shouted my mother, and threw me Dad's axe. I snatched it out of the air and ran my fingers down the intricately braided handle.

"Let's go," I growled.

"Looking forward to it," Ruffnut drawled, and led the way out into the freezing night.

Someone had obviously run to get Stoick, because our vast chief was puffing his way up the hill. "Stop!" he thundered. "What in the Thunderer's name is going on here?"

The villagers who had been eating in the mead-hall tonight were pouring out of the door. Everyone likes a fight, especially in winter. Heats up the blood. "Thorston here insulted Hofferson," Spitelout crossed his brawny arms. "Said she already had your grandchild in her belly."

Angry as I was, the thought still made me redden. Ruffnut sneered at me, and pulled her axe and hatchet from her back. "Are you ready, or do you need to go throw up?" she said snidely.

I span my father's axe in my hand. Not as perfect as mine, but fitting. "I'm ready."

Ruff swang at my midsection with the hatchet in her left hand, testing me out. I pulled back easily, and sent a ferocious swing at her legs, which she jumped. Hmm.

She then began a massive overhand blow with the axe, but I caught and turned the blade with my own. That seemed to be a signal of sorts to both of us, and we started fighting in earnest.

"I don't want to hurt you, Ruff," I puffed as I punched her solidly in the mouth and followed it up with a axeblow that she hurriedly countered.

"Good," she grunted, "so I can stop worrying about that and concentrate on hurting _you_."

Her technique was very good, and she could spin the axe with finesse. I didn't think she was as good as me, but she'd obviously done some work over the winter. Her problem came from the hatchet in her left hand. It was a distraction rather than a help. It slowed her reactions.

"Hatchet was a mistake," I managed, and she kicked my feet out from under me. Flexing my body, I pushed myself back to my feet in a single spring. She looked annoyed. And a bit impressed.

"It's fine, see?" She swung the hatchet at my head. I ducked and sent my axe swirling at her arms.

She pulled herself back but I nicked her. Hissing, she eyed the long and bleeding cut on the hatchet-arm and then me. I'd frozen in a ready stance and watched her carefully for rash movement.

"That satisfies honour," I said quietly, though my breath was still coming fast. "Let's leave it, Ruff."

"Are you crazy?" she grinned viciously. "This is awesome fun. Besides, if I kill you I can still marry-"

Her eyes crossed and she fell forward with a thud.

Behind her, holding his hammer and looking worriedly at the limp form, was Hiccup.

"Er," he said. "Hope you don't mind the help?"

I _should_ have minded. But I didn't.

Stoick held up his meaty hands over the laughter and jeers and cheering. "Quiet! That'll be an end to it!"

"Astrid didn't beat her!" someone yelled, and I scowled.

"No, but her husband did, and so it's done with!" Stoick roared. Hiccup looked a bit awed at the word 'husband'.

"Not her husband yet," someone grumbled. "And he cheated."

Gobber raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Riiiight. Because everyone knows fighting fair is how these things work."

There was a murmur of agreement. Gobber was right. We're Vikings. We cheat, and we win.

"Besides which, you're really going to quibble over two days?" Stoick gave the crowd an unimpressed look. "If you're that desperate for a good brawl, wait till th' day after the wedding. The folk from Brass Monkey should arrive then, an' our bridegroom here," Stoick slapped his son's back, making him stumble forward, "is going to take on Oglaranna the Aggressive herself!"

There was a collective indrawn breath, and then the whole village burst out laughing.

Hiccup pouted.

* * *

Everything's ready.

Oh Freya and Frigga help me.

I'm so nervous, Spike.

And people need to stop giving me advice before I clock them.

I haven't seen him since yesterday.

Oh gods.

Well, here goes, sweetie.

Wish me luck.


	8. Chapter 8

Not mine, no money, no sue.

**Wow, everyone! Thank you so much for all the kind words! **

**Ze Great Camicazi: My info is mostly from The Viking Answer lady (google her!) and from my encylopaedia of Mythology that I read obsessively as a child. Woah, did I ever. **

**Foxy's Girl: Next chapter is when our rating REALLY kicks in... so if anyone dislikes teh smex, I suggest you avoid Chapter 9. **

**And now, wedding stuffs!**

* * *

Yesterday was…

You should see my hair. Mum taught me how to put it up this morning. It feels strange, and my neck is freezing. My brow feels naked without my maidenband.

My hand feels heavy and strange, the ring Hiccup made sitting on my finger. It's very beautiful. Silver, with pieces of Toothless' scales embedded in a pattern representing Yggdrasil. No stones. He said he knew I wouldn't want a ring that could catch on anything, and he was right. I wonder when he began to know me so well. Were we still children?

I'm already tired of the taste of mead. Sickly sweet. But we've got to get through it all somehow. There's _barrels_ of the stupid stuff.

The Elder could barely be heard above all the shouting and hooting going on during the ceremony. Hiccup stuttered over the vow. The stupid ram refused to be sacrificed to Odin and bounded to the top of the Mead-Hall where it sat, bleating crossly all night.

The sword thing went fine. Hiccup was able to stab with some accuracy, and it stuck into the rooftree all right. I gave him a look that said he was an idiot for worrying.

My little brother had an absolute whale of a time, carrying my family sword before me. Stoick had to hand over the _mundr_ to him, as the man of the Hofferson house. Eight silver pieces and eight gold, a new axe, three matching swords, a leather message-pouch for his Terrible Terror, and a heavy ornamented shield. He was so worked up that he'd fallen asleep long before the feast finished. To be fair, Ainid's only twelve. Born after Dad… well.

The feast was actually a feast. Obviously the last ice-fishing trip went better than could be expected. Hiccup kept looking at me as though I'd dropped from the sky, and played with the ends of my hair and the petals wound around my mother's old bridal crown the whole time. Most of the village was stinking drunk within a few hours. No-one even noticed when I ritually served Hiccup the first drink of our marriage and he surreptitiously handed it back.

Snotlout came up to us at one point, grabbed both our shoulders and blubbered drunkenly, sincerely and incomprehensibly at us both. Hiccup took 'Lout's shoulder awkwardly in return and said, "Um. Thanks, 'Lout."

Snotlout nodded and blubbed some more, before his eyes rolled up and he passed out.

"Lovely," I snorted.

"He meant well," Hiccup looked down at his snoring cousin. "Uh, did you understand any of that?"

"It was drunken Snotlout for 'Congratulations and you look great together and I hope you'll be happy'," I guessed.

"Hmm," Hiccup nudged 'Lout with his bad foot. "We'd better move him."

"I'll do that," said a clipped voice, and my eyes jerked over to see Ruffnut and her brother. "You… enjoy the feast."

"Ruff," Hiccup started, but Tuffnut held up a warning finger and pointed it to Ruff, who took a deep breath.

"Sorry," she blurted.

I blinked.

So did Hiccup. "Are you… really Ruffnut?"

"Shut up," she snarled, and when her head snapped over to her sniggering twin I saw the darkening bruises on her face. My work. Masterpieces, each one.

Tuff gulped when she rounded on him and held up his hands harmlessly. She looked as though she was going to launch herself at him for a moment anyway, but sighed again instead and stuck out her hand grudgingly to me.

"Pax?" she asked bluntly.

Blunt. I like that. "Pax," I said, and shook it.

She let go abruptly, whirling and grabbing Hiccup's green woollen tunic-front. "If she doesn't make you happy," she said dangerously in his startled face, "well… she'd _better_."

Hiccup swallowed hard, and then delicately pried her hands from him.

"Ruff," I said, scowling, and preparing to give the girl another thrashing.

"She does," Hiccup said abruptly. "She really does."

How is it, Spike, that this tall, skinny, awkward boy makes a girl like me, a shieldmaiden, _melt_ like that?

Ruff looked a bit sad. "Good." And then she hoisted the snoring Snotlout against her hip and shoulder and stalked off into the crowd.

We didn't see her again all night.

"That was so not my idea," Tuffnut said grumpily. "She dragged me along."

"Why?" asked Hiccup, smoothing his tunic. He was doing a rubbish job at it, so I batted his hands away and did it myself. He smiled at me goofily.

"Witnesses, she said," Tuff scratched at his neck. "So, congrats and all that stuff."

"Thanks," I said, still focusing on Hiccup's tunic. Any excuse to get near that lovely neck.

Tuff seemed to realise that he was a bit superfluous, and muttered, "I need another drink."

"Bye, Tuff," I said absently, now smoothing the wispy hairs on the back of Hiccup's neck that merged with his shaggy mop.

"Bye… Tuff," Hiccup managed. "That tickles, Astrid."

"You're ticklish, hmm?" I threaded my fingers into his hair. It was warm and thick and smelled like the herbs the men had put in his ritual bath that morning.

"Well, not _tickles,_ exactly, but…" Hiccup tried to mitigate, but at that moment a meaty hand slapped down on his shoulder and he stumbled. "Ooof, Dad!"

"Now, now, Astrid," he boomed jovially, "you're going to have him all night! Don't monopolise him so quickly!"

I could feel my face beginning to burn again, and snatched my hand out of his hair. "Ah… hi, Stoick."

"Dad! Call me Dad!" he grinned, and those gigantic arms swept me into a hug. Stoick smelled overpoweringly of ale and mead. "Welcome to the family!"

"Erp," I said. No wonder everyone believed he'd popped a dragon's head off whilst in nappies. I couldn't breathe at all.

"Daaaaad," Hiccup cringed. "Can you put her down? She is _my_ uh, w-wife, y'know."

_Wife_. I'm a wife.

Eurgh.

Hiccup's wife, though… that's okay.

Stoick lurched a little after setting me back down on my feet, and he clapped Hiccup on the shoulder again. "And a lovely wife at that, m'boy… didn't think you'd ever be able to catch a beauty like this one. Ah lad," his eyes were growing misty, "how I wish Val were here to see you now. She'd be so proud, Hiccup, so proud…"

"Thanks, Dad," Hiccup said softly, and patted his father's arm a little.

"Ah, son," Stoick sniffed and weaved back and forth on his feet, "My boy, our Hiccup. Oh, y've grown so much, you're a fine man. When I think how close you were t'…" and his usually stern face twisted a little, before he swept Hiccup up into a bear hug as well. "Yer mother loved you so, boy, an' I know she'd be jus' as proud as me," he choked tightly.

Hiccup gave a small uncomfortable squeak.

"Stoick! You're ruining your reputation wi' all that mush!" Gobber's voice roared from where the barrels and kegs were set.

Stoick shook his head against Hiccup's hair. "Don't care. My little boy's gotten married. You going to tell me to stop? Then say it closer an' get a thumpin'!"

"You couldn't fight a three-legged mouse like that," Gobber snorted, stomping over. "Here," he handed me a tankard. "Get used to that."

I sniffed it. Mead again. "Oh brilliant," I grumbled. Here came more jokes about wedding-nights and strong sons.

"Dad…!" gasped Hiccup from within his father's iron embrace, and Stoick glanced at him before gently propping him back on his feet.

"Are you okay?" I hissed at him. He dragged in a huge breath and nodded a bit vaguely, and patted his father's brawny arm again.

"I'm… good," he said with a faint look of surprise, then looked up at his dad and beamed. "Thanks, Dad."

Stoick beamed back, before remembering his reputation and covering it with a giant gulp of ale.

"Here, lad," Gobber said then in a gentler voice. "Made you something for the wife."

Hiccup blinked, looked at me and then down at his hands where Gobber had just dropped a cloth-wrapped bundle. Unwrapping it carefully, he pulled out a wide leather belt with beaten gold plates sewn at intervals along it. The reliefs carefully hammered into the plates told the story of Hiccup and the dragons. I gasped.

"Gobber," Hiccup said slowly and with awe, "this is amazing. I didn't know you could work gold."

"Not much call for a goldsmith in Berk, lad," Gobber scratched at his stubbled chin with his hook. "Er. Congratulations."

Hiccup gingerly wrapped the belt around my hips and buckled it. I touched a relief of Toothless and Hiccup with one finger. "It's beautiful, Gobber," I said softly. It was.

Hiccup gave his mentor that crooked smile, and hugged him. And yes, it was awkward (I swear, Hiccup is the Chief of Awkward), but they both seemed happy enough. "Thanks."

Stoick nodded towards my tankard. "You better get to that," he said cheerfully. He was going to say something about grandchildren, I just _knew_ it.

I raised an eyebrow at it. "Bleagh. Smells awful."

"Want help?" Hiccup murmured, and I eyed him thoughtfully. I guess I've got to get used to that too. Hiccup helping, I mean. I nodded.

His thin arm shot out and grabbed the tankard, and he'd swallowed over half of the brew before either of our drunken elders could react. "Mmmhmm," he said hoarsely, barely controlling a splutter. "You're right. Smells awful, doesn't taste right either. Should we go and investigate?"

"Good idea," I said with an absolutely straight face and grabbed that tankard-holding arm.

"Hey!" both Stoick and Gobber roared indignantly as I dragged him over to the kegs.

He's never been able to control his expressions like everyone else. When we slowed, he was making faces at the sickly sweet taste and the brutal headspin honey-mead bestows. "Urrrrgh. Can we… can we sit down? I drank that way too fast."

I sat him down by the barrels and kissed him. He tasted like honey. A lot of honey. "Thank you," I whispered. "I am so sick of mead and all the sniggering that goes with it."

He gave me a weak little smile. "My pleasure. Have to do the husbandly thing."

That made my legs feel a little wobbly. "Very husbandly," I whispered, and kissed him again.

"Astrid," he breathed, and deepened the kiss. _Gods,_ it was hot in there all of a sudden.

"Okay, so what do you think his chances are of siring offspring before tomorrow?" asked a blurry voice from behind us.

"I'd say pretty good from what we just saw," Fishleg's voice was slurred. "I'd need more information to make an accurate predicsh, predictsh… accurate _guess,_ though."

Hiccup leaned his forehead against mine and groaned. I rolled my eyes. "Never happen, Fishy."

"The offspring part…?" the other voice was Snotlout, who had woken up, apparently.

"The information part," I said sternly, whilst fighting to keep my face from burning off the front of my head. Hiccup was looking at me wide-eyed.

"Really?" he asked in a hushed voice. His face was almost frightened.

I didn't trust myself to answer, so I just nodded. Then I cleared my throat and said, "someday."

Hiccup stared at me a little longer, before crushing me in a long hug.

Fishlegs wasn't in any state to recognise an important moment in a relationship. "Isn't it weird to think that we've always been the kids of the village, but now we're talking about having kids? Like it's some weird tessellation of roles?"

"Weird wha…?" Snotlout gave him a bleary look of confusion. "When are you having kids, 'Legs?"

"Sometime next year," Fishlegs said promptly, "Gotta marry Ruff at harvest first."

"Whoa, 'Legs, you want Ruff?" Snotlout asked, wide-eyed.

"Not an issue," Fishlegs said wryly. "The Thorstons accepted my family's offer this morning."

"Not an answer, either," Snotlout prodded Fishlegs' bearded face. "You like Ruff, 'Legs?"

Fishlegs mumbled something into his tankard, and then drained it quickly.

"You do!" Snotlout crowed, "he does! Fishy luuuurves Ruffy! Aw man," his eyes widened as his own situation crashed down on him, "now I really do have to move to Phlock."

Hiccup carefully released me, and I could feel his arms shaking. "Wow. So, someday then. I love you," he murmured.

"I know," I said softly. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

The whole village stumbled their way up the hill after us to see us safely to the Haddock lodge. Hiccup and I outpaced them simply by virtue of being mostly sober. I could hear and see our breathing in the frigid, silent night air. I was so nervous I felt sick. I was so happy I could scream.

When we finally crested the hill, my mother was standing by the large door of Hiccup's home – our home. My home now.

Mum silently crunched across the frozen grass, took both our hands, and said very slowly and seriously, "You'll fight. Things won't always be perfect. You'll yell and sulk and storm and hate each other at times. Things will sometimes be difficult. There won't always be time. There won't always be money. You won't always agree. But listen to me: _that won't matter. _Just remember the most important thing."

Hiccup and I glanced at each other.

"You promised to look after each other," Mum said, voice low and fervent, eyes shiny and bright. "You promised to listen, and help, and trust. You promised in front of your families and friends and the gods themselves. Most of all, you promised one another. That's the most important thing. Because if you… if anything happens, you'll never have anything to… regret."

She broke off, her throat working hard.

"Mum," I squeezed her hand. "Mum…"

She squeezed back. "Remember that."

She let go and opened the door. "Now go on, my daughter," she said with a small smile, "and my son."

Hiccup clumsily kissed her cheek, and then stood back as I threw my arms around my mother.

"I'm not gone," I told her fiercely. "I'm still me and I'm still here."

"I know," she whispered, "I just wish your father had… oh Astrid, you're so like him."

"Ainid is still at home, Mum," I gently teased her.

"Ainid isn't you," she stroked my hair. "Come around tomorrow and I'll show you how to put it up."

I nodded. It was so hard to keep my Viking-stoic demeanour faced with this woman, the woman who had been father and mother to me and brought me up all alone.

"Now in you go, you two," she stepped back abruptly. "Before I turn into an old woman."

"Goodnight, Gerda – ah, Mum," said Hiccup with absolute earnestness. I felt a surge of love for him make my ribcage expand to the point of pain.

"Goodnight, kids," she replied quietly, and shut the door behind us.


	9. Chapter 9

Not mine, no money, no sue.

**Okay, ladies and jellyspoons, teh smex. If you no like, no read. The rating is there for a reason.**

**Extreme thanks to everyone who has reviewed! You are all making me feel so loved :)**

* * *

Sorry, sweetheart, had to go um, train Hiccup. The Brassies thankfully haven't showed today. Which means tomorrow is definitely…

Where was I, Spike? Oh, the Haddock lodge.

I'm a Haddock. Astrid Haddock. Sounds… bizarre.

Oh right, Mum had just closed the door, and we could hear the rest of the village puffing up the hill. There were some catcalls and some whooping, but eventually my mother's stern tones and extra-large battle-axe convinced them to go back to where the ale was rather than barging in to see us safely in the bed. Hiccup was still and pale, and he stared at me in something like fear as we listened to the fading sounds.

"So," I said uncertainly. I hate feeling uncertain.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Oh, I should show you…"

He took my hand (his was shaking) and led me through the lodge. The fire had almost died down, and he threw more logs on with a cursory thump, before stroking Toothless' sleeping head.

"He's okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said huskily. "I wish… I wish he could have been there, today."

"I know, love," I tapped my belt. "He was, in a way."

He nodded, and patted his friend's head once more. "Come on," he said shakily, and led me up towards the loft stairs.

"Up here? We're up here?" I asked incredulously. He scratched at the back of his head.

"Well, for now," he said in a hesitant voice. "Until, you know… someday."

Someday. Kids. Kids again.

"Oh," I said, feeling my cheeks burn.

"I mean, it'll take a while to create new rooms for us, and I really didn't want to ask Dad to move out of the one he shared with Mum," Hiccup blurted. "I can do it, promise, but not overnight, and so I sort of thought if I fixed up my loft for now…"

"Hiccup," I interrupted. "It's fine."

"Is it?" he said nervously.

"Yes," I pushed him at the stairs.

"Oh," he said blankly, and started to climb. I shook my head, and followed him.

"I was more thinking about you," I said slowly, "giving up your place…"

"It's ours. What's mine is yours," he turned at the top of the stairs and held his hand out to me, smiling. "Come and see."

Intrigued, I took his hand (still shaking, good to know I wasn't the only nervous one) and let him lead me into the darkened area. He let go, and I could hear him scurrying about in the gloom, the only source of light cut off when he shut the trap over the loft stairs. The wood's soft bump as it met the frame felt like a promise.

"Shut your eyes," Hiccup whispered.

"You're kidding," I scoffed.

"Please, Astrid," he pleaded. I sighed, and complied. I heard the _whisk_ of tinder and the sputter of candles as Hiccup presumably lit them.

"Okay," he sounded terrified, and excited. "Open."

I opened my eyes.

"Hiccup," I breathed.

The room was huge, the wooden floor sanded and polished to perfection. He'd certainly been busy. He'd partitioned areas so that there was space for everything. Where I was, there were fur-covered benches and a large rug for Toothless, and possibly for…

As the fire was downstairs, he'd had to be creative when it came to heating the loft, and I saw that he'd long ago diverted the chimney through one of the walls. The warm air heated the stones and kept the room from freezing.

This also meant there was nowhere for cooking but downstairs – but that didn't bother me, because I can only cook camp-rations anyway. My family had usually eaten in the mead-hall.

A large bench stretched against one wall, which was covered in sketches and tools and general Hiccupness. I walked over and thumbed through the papers. A sketch of me, my battle-axe raised, laughing, in the cove…

I drifted as though in a dream over to the opposite wall where a sturdy metal weapons rack was bolted. It was empty. I threaded a finger through the hooks in the centre. They were for an axe. Pride of place.

Beyond that were thick polished wooden shelves, with three tunics and various leggings, boots, coats – and was that his helmet? - all piled in haphazard fashion on one side. The other side was empty, waiting for my belongings and my bridal gifts. Propped beside it was a roll of green woollen.

Slowly I took off my beautiful gold-beaten belt, and laid it carefully on my side of the shelves. It felt like a claiming, an affirmation. My side of the shelves, always and from now on.

At the back, behind a screen made from dark wood and stretched calf-leather, I could see a wide pallet heaped with soft furs.

And everything gleamed with polish and hard work and I could see Hiccup's hands everywhere I looked.

"Oh," I said in a small voice. I couldn't help it. I pressed my hands over my mouth. Our home.

"So?" Hiccup's face was the picture of apprehension. "What do you want to change?"

I pulled my hands away from my mouth. Of course he would think like that. "I'll let you know," I murmured. "But mostly…"

"Yes?" he bit his lip.

"I want the furs on that bed thrown all over the place."

Hiccup's mouth fell open.

I grinned. Still my favourite expression on him. I took advantage of his astonishment and grabbed my gobsmacked husband, kissing him hard.

"You…" I kissed him, "are wonderful, and this," I kissed his jaw, "is wonderful," kiss, "and I love you…" kiss, "so damn much…"

"A-astrid," he gasped.

"Come on then, my husband," I slid my hand into his, "If what's yours is mine, let's have a look."

"Astrid!" he sounded scandalised as I hauled him through our room (our room!) and towards the pallet.

"Hiccup!" I mimicked him.

"I… er, I," he blabbered as I pushed him onto the soft furs. "Astrid, I've ne…"

"If you're about to tell me that you haven't the faintest idea of what you're doing," I breathed as I pressed his shoulders back, clambering over him, "well, don't feel alone."

"Mmmph!" he said as I claimed his mouth again. I sat up.

"Stop it, Hiccup," I said sternly, "or I do."

He clamped his mouth shut, a half-begging, half-terrified look in his big green eyes.

"Better," I told him, and leaned forward over his skinny chest again to kiss him once more. This time he responded eagerly and his tongue snaked forward to do messy battle with mine again.

That tightness in my core had returned, a tenseness between my legs. I let out a small breathy moan as Hiccup's tentative, questing hands caressed my hips and ran slowly up my back.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered against my throat, before pulling aside my hair and planting his mouth over my pulse. I groaned and my body pressed forward by itself.

That tenseness had turned into a low dull throb that seemed to echo the beat of my blood as Hiccup mouthed and nipped at my neck. One of his hands ran through my hair and brushed the shell of my ear, and this time my moan was loud and needy.

My breath had sped up and I felt almost drunk.

Running my hands up his sides, I pulled him into a half-sitting position before tugging at his tunic. "We need this off," I said thickly, my head swimming.

"Hang on," he scooted back on the pallet, bringing me with him still seated on his legs, and pulled it over his head.

Gods, I must be the luckiest girl in the world. "Hiccup, you are _gorgeous_," I said fervently.

For once he didn't blush. "So are you," he said softly, and pushed a hand through my hair again.

I let out a needy little noise and leaned over him again, all that beautiful tempting freckled flesh there just for _me_ - and I encountered something against my inner thigh.

I looked down. Hiccup's leggings were a lot… tighter.

"Um," he said.

I stared a little longer. The shape in the leggings was… would that even _fit_ in me…?

"Astrid?" he ventured warily. "We don't have to…"

"Oh, we are going to," I said, still staring, "just…"

I sat back up on his legs and pulled my wedding dress off unceremoniously. Hiccup made an 'ack!' noise, and the… shape in the leggings actually _lengthened_. Bizarre. Men were obviously bizarre.

Underneath my wedding dress were my leggings and breast band. My bridal crown had been torn off with my dress, and the half-braid it had been pinned to was coming out. Hiccup was supposed to take my crown off formally. I was glad I had ripped it off myself. More fun that way.

Hiccup didn't seem to know what to do with me. His hands hovered with awe over the bare skin of my stomach, and his eyes were worshipful. "Oh, Astrid, you… I love…" he choked.

I didn't want to be worshipped right then. I wanted to be… "Hiccup, _move_," I told him, and squirmed until I was seated over the… shape. His eyes bulged and he almost stopped breathing.

"Jffgl," he said.

"Really," I mocked gently. The shape of him under my core relieved some of the throbbing. I leaned forward again to kiss him.

Oh.

I rocked back over him, and he hissed air between his teeth. A warm pressure was building where the throbbing had been. It felt… he felt…

"Oh!" I said, and rocked forward along him again. He yelped.

"Astrid, uuurr… ah, ah… wait," he babbled.

"Mmm," I groaned, rocking faster along his length. Too many clothes. How would this feel without clothes? My mind almost shorted out contemplating it.

"Wait, I need… a moment… Astrid, please…" he was pleading, his breaths coming faster and faster. His face was turning a bright red.

The warmth in my core was spreading, growing. I could only keep moving along him. My body felt like it would explode if I stopped.

Hiccup tried to grab my shoulders, just as I rocked forward again, and his eyes suddenly unfocused. His mouth opened in a strangled cry, and his fingers clamped down on my shoulders reflexively.

Abruptly I had nothing to rock against, though I could feel a certain… pulsing coming from him, and a small hot wetness spreading against me.

"Oh," I said stupidly, sitting back up. "That's what you were trying to…"

Hiccup just said, "arrgh," and covered his face with his hands, trying to control his breathing.

"Um, sorry," I said, and then felt like an absolute idiot.

"I tried to warn you," he said in a muffled voice full of humiliation.

"Hey," I said consolingly, and crawled up to lie beside him, "it's okay."

He only groaned.

"Really. We'll just have another go," I stroked his hair gently. So soft and thick.

"We'll have to wait," he mumbled.

"What?" That hadn't ever occurred to me.

"Well, I need to…" he swallowed, "ah, recover."

"Oh," I patted his hair some more. The warm feeling was entirely gone now, and there was a slight ache between my legs. I sighed. "Okay."

There was a pause.

Then he took his hands from his face and looked at me consideringly. "But, y'know, not that long," he said slowly. "I _am _seventeen, after all."

I felt a little smile creep over my face. "And you just got married," I said.

He smiled back. "And I just got married. To you."

Melt time again.

Then he shifted his hips uncomfortably and grimaced. "Er, yuck. I need to get out of these."

"Great idea," I murmured, and he gave me a startled look. "I'll help."

"Um, it's… messy," he said, and blushed some more. Such a baby.

"I'm a big girl," I said, and kissed his red face. "Do we need to get your leg off first?"

"Yeah," he replied, sitting up and grimacing again. "If you could…"

Ecstatic that he'd asked, that he was _okay_ with it, I shunted back down the bed and pulled at the buckles. The leg came off with a clatter, and I noticed he'd even polished it up for the day. The Night Furies flew in bright swirls on the shining metal. "This is beautiful, Hiccup," I said in a hushed voice, turning it over in my hands while he pulled off his boot and dropped it on the floor.

"I had help with it," he said, pulling off the leather sock on his bad leg and rubbing at his scars. "Ow."

"Do you hurt?" I sat bolt upright.

"Not really," he gave me a wry look, "just the cold weather. After a winter day like this, leaning on it can ache a bit."

"Oh," I gave his false leg another admiring glance. So clever and lovely, so Hiccup all over. "Where should I put this?"

"I don't care," he shrugged. "Near the bed is fine. I've got to get out of these," he then looked at his leggings with distaste.

_Mmmmmmmm!_ "Yes please," I said throatily, and reached for the tie at his waist, but he held my wrists.

"If I have to, you do too," he said seriously, but there was a touch of something in his eyes that made my breath catch again. Something hot and wanting.

"Right," I somehow agreed. The throbbing was back.

"And I seem to have a head start," he said in a soft voice that made me quiver, and his fingers travelled up my side to brush my breast-band.

I swallowed. "Right," I repeated, but my voice was raspy this time.

I could feel his eyes on me as I tugged shakily at the ties between my breasts. His gaze was like the heat of a forge against my skin. Once I had it loose enough, I gave up on untying the thing and simply pulled it over my head, throwing it onto the floor next to his leg.

"Oh, Astrid," I heard him say in a trembling voice. "Oh my gods. You're so…"

His left hand hovered uncertainly over me. I rolled my eyes. Afraid to touch his wife. Still, his wife was _me_, so it was very sensible, I guess. I grabbed the hand and pressed it to my breast, and heard his shocked breath. His face was worshipful again.

"Your turn," I breathed.

"In a minute," he said, expression turning from awed to fascinated. He tested the weight of my breast, and taking the other one, pressed them together as though trying their elasticity. He rolled a thumb over a nipple, and it peaked immediately.

And that tightness, that shot of pleasure in my core, was suddenly stronger than ever before. His eyes snapped to mine.

"Good?" he asked, rolling the peak between his fingers.

I whimpered. Actually _whimpered_.

He cocked his head at me, and then scooted towards me on his bum. "Hiccup," I panted, "what are you_uuurk_!"

He'd taken the little bud into his mouth and was rolling it with his tongue. I made a noise that can probably be described as 'uungh!' The warmth between my legs was spreading again. Oh gods, it all felt so good. But…

"Hiccup!" I panted again, "it's… your turn!"

He mouthed at my breast for another moment, whilst his nimble fingers undid his leggings in short order. He released me just long enough to lie back and lift his hips enough to slide them out from under his bum, pulling them down his legs. He used them to wipe a small amount of thick, white stuff from low on his stomach, and then threw them down to the floor. Then he was back before I could stop reeling, half-kneeling on his good leg as he nibbled and sucked at my other nipple. I could feel a wet sort of clenching going on deep inside me.

"Unghargh," I said. How articulate.

He was utterly naked, but for the ring I'd given him on his right hand. My hands reached for all that smooth, pale skin, dusted in little freckles on his shoulders. Oooh, _shoulders._ And now I was allowed to have as many shoulder-related flutters as I liked. I was allowed to touch it all.

I looked between his legs. The… shape was revealed as something… alien-looking to me, thick and pink and lifting slowly, like a head raising in search of someone. It wasn't even close to the length I had felt in the leggings, so perhaps he wasn't ready yet?

Then again, neither was I.

"My turn again," I whispered against his hair, and pushed him off me with reluctance. He fell back onto his elbows and watched with a sort of dizzy enraptured look on his face. I stood up beside the pallet and shucked my boots, then bent and pulled down my leggings brusquely.

Hiccup said "fffnngh!"

I looked back enquiringly. "Are you okay?"

He nodded furiously. "You just… ah, you just did that… and whoa…" his hands moved vaguely in the air, "and you bent over, and…" then he sketched a sort of hourglass shape, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," I said.

"Really," he said fervidly, "wow."

"Yours," I gestured to my naked body. "So, going to do anything with it?"

He practically growled at me and I was treated to another demonstration of his new arm-reach. He snagged my waist and tugged me down to him, and I had been right, so right.

It was a million times better without clothes.

Smooth, sweet-smelling skin everywhere I touched, moving silkily against mine. He rolled us so he covered me with his long frame, and his roughened hands roamed over me as though oiled. Sweat was pricking down my neck as he bit me gently on the ear and I gasped and jerked violently against him. I could feel his… himself pressed hotly against my hip, and I rubbed shamelessly against his bad leg as that warmth, that sweet tight pressure built once more somewhere between my thighs.

I claimed his mouth again, and ravaged it as best as I could while panting as though I'd just run a marathon. I licked the white scar on his chin, mouthed at his ear, bit down on his collarbone. He matched me in kind, callused fingers dancing over my breasts and belly, his hips moving unconsciously against mine, pressing the… shape against my stomach. It was radiating heat against me now, harder and somehow heavy.

Then his fingers danced low on my stomach and brushed my curls. My racing breath caught in my throat.

Hiccup pulled away from my mouth, and gave me another calculating stare. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully. His lips were bruised red from kisses.

The noise I made then doesn't bear repeating.

"No, hear me out," Hiccup said, fighting his own breath. "Maybe we should… do I have to… do anything for you? Get you… ready?"

I gritted my teeth. "I don't know! I did say… that you weren't… alone in knowing nothing about… this!"

"Maybe I should, then," he said, looking down at his hardening manhood and then at my face. I clamped my arm over my mouth to stop the frustrated scream.

"Don't care," I mumbled angrily around my arm. "Just… do something!"

Hiccup's lovely face brightened. "Okay."

And those long, clever fingers found their way to my core and swiped along the slit.

I _squealed_.

Hiccup looked dumbfounded. "Wow. Right."

And he did it again. My hips bucked upwards, and I moaned loudly this time. Encouraged, Hiccup cautiously dipped a long, thin finger into me, and I ground down, needing more.

"Are you… are you supposed to be all… wet…?" he asked me breathlessly.

"Keep… more," I practically wailed.

"On it," he gasped, and another finger pressed into me, feeling around the walls of my sex.

The noises I was making now were a bit embarrassing.

"N…" I tried, and Hiccup seemed to understand, withdrawing his fingers slowly, and massaging tentatively over the mound as he did. But as he drew them out, I stiffened.

_There_ it was.

"There," I said frantically. "Theretherethere!"

"What? Where?" Hiccup sat back to look at the path his fingers had taken. He was certainly at full mast now, I vaguely noticed.

"Mmmngh!" I couldn't say anything. I couldn't think at all.

"This?" Hiccup brushed it again. "There's this… it's a little bump…"

"Nnnngg!" I nodded furiously. _That_ was the source of the throbbing and the tightness? A bump?

Then he rubbed it gently with his thumb and my eyes rolled into my head. Bless the bump.

"I need…" I blurted, and clamped my teeth down on my arm again. He'd started to _roll_ it. The bump was obviously Frigga's gift to women.

"What…?" he panted. He was rubbing himself too, I noticed, long smooth slow strokes. The shape seemed to have a hood, a cloak that it could shrug off and on, off and on.

"That," I panted, "You."

"Now…?" he said in a strangled tone, and I nodded so hard it felt like my head might come off.

"Hiccup…" I choked as he rubbed at the bump some more.

"How… do you…" he managed, and another finger dipped into my core again, fumbling along the walls. I shook and twitched madly.

"Don't care," I said wildly, "don't care, don't care…. Just…"

"Here," Hiccup's fingers withdrew from their obviously gods-given task of making me lose my mind. He pulled my shoulders and lay back so that I was seated on his legs again. I rubbed against his bad leg, moaning.

"A-astrid…" he buried his face in my breasts and mouthed quickly at a nipple, "like this?"

"You… want this?" I leaned over him, and he fell back against the furs. I kissed him, just because. My core was throbbing like a heart.

"I want… you," he breathed. I looked down at the shape, red and long with a bead of the white stuff forming at the protruding head. Of course it would fit. It would, wouldn't it? Every woman since the melting of Ginnungagap seemed to manage. Then I looked back at him, at his flushed face and the adoration and need in his eyes.

"Okay," I said breathlessly, then set my teeth, grabbed him and _sat_.

Oh gods, Spike, it hurt. It hurt so much.

"Astrid!" he yelped. "Gods, sorry, I'm sorry… Are you… are you okay?"

"Ah!" I cried out, "Oh gods, just…. Hiccup, lie _still_… please…"

"You… slowly, we should have gone…" he babbled, and the flush was gone from his cheeks. He was pale with fright.

It was like being stabbed with a sword left in the forge-fires. My body was screaming. "Shut up," I grunted.

He shut up immediately.

"I've got to..." I had to get off him. This… this was agony. People made songs about this?

Morons.

The very idea of moving off him hurt. But I had to. Pinned by this sword, stabbed through and burning like a sheep on a spit… I had to get him out of me. I started to move upwards.

Hiccup's breath stopped.

And oddly, so did most of the pain. I stilled, and Hiccup's hips jerked involuntarily. Into me.

And…

It felt sort of _good_.

"Unngh," I said through my gritted teeth, and Hiccup's mouth opened, no doubt to spill more apologies. I slapped my palm over his mouth and experimentally sank back down.

At the point where my thighs touched his hips, the pain returned, and I hissed a little. But the pain was growing less and less, and the warmth was back when I thought it had been scared away for good.

I slid back up his length. Hiccup's hands clutched at my back, and he moaned softly. I sat back down.

And there was no pain. Only warmth and tightness and…

So _that's_ what all the songs were about.

"Oh," I gasped, "oh!"

"Astrid?" Hiccup's fingers were twitching at my hips now. I grabbed one of his hands and kissed the callused fingertips.

"Okay," I said, and I could feel a smile spreading across my face, "okay then."

His returning smile was a gap-toothed sun coming up, and he flexed his own hips up into me. He was so hard and hot inside me, hard where I was soft, and it felt so full as I pushed up and down. Inside me. I had my love inside me. Where he should be, where he fitted after all.

He lifted his head up to me, leaning on an elbow as he grabbed my head and pulled me down for a kiss. In order to keep going, I had to rock my hips forward. And _then_…

"Gods!" I breathed into his mouth, and he nipped at my chin, before bending his head to nibble on my breast again. He seemed quite taken with them.

Rocking was… incredible. I could feel the throbbing of him as hips met hips and his pubic bone pushed against Frigga's bumpy little gift, making me writhe. Each time I pushed forward, it made him feel longer and thicker inside me, pressing against the front of my body. Hiccup's mouth at my breast made me tighten even further, and I felt him huff and groan in response.

The heat was rising in me, and I picked up the pace, rocking against Hiccup, my breasts brushing against his lips, my fingers tweaking his nipple. He raised his head and kissed me amongst wet and frantic breaths.

"Close… close," he said in a strangled voice.

"Gods," I replied brokenly, and he grabbed my hips and practically pulled himself up into me. I yowled like a cat.

"Astri-i-id," he managed, his breath catching as he drove into me firmly, inexorably, "what do you… _UNGH, ohhh_… are you…"

"I don't know… I… oh, _please_…I…" I sobbed. I had no idea what I needed. Only that I needed it NOW.

"Got an… idea," he panted, and clumsily snaked a hand between our sweat-slicked and pumping bodies, and pressed his thumb down on that little bump.

"Hicc_uhhh_!" I howled, as the warmth and throbbing built in seconds to a blinding sea of tight, clamping pleasure. He rubbed and rubbed even as his hips pushed up into me, and I was incoherent and writhing on him. I have the feeling I mangled his name a few times and called out to every god in Asgard and Vanaheim.

His thrusts grew harder and deeper and he seemed to _lengthen_ inside me then, his hair stuck to his forehead. With a strangled cry, he pushed up even harder, holding himself as deep as possible. I could feel him pulsing, pulsing and throbbing within me as he held still and clutched at me, his body rigid and arching off the pallet. Then he let out an explosive breath and fell back onto the furs, pulling my torso on top of him in an inelegant sprawl.

"Wow," he said blankly.

"Wow," I replied, just as blankly.

"That was…" he struggled to find words. I actually giggled, a bit shakily.

"Uh-huh," I agreed. "Hiccup?"

"Mmm?"

"I really do love you."

His arms tightened around me. "I love you too." His still-shuddering breath hitched. "So much."

I kissed the bite on his collarbone, before tucking my head under his chin. "And…"

"Yeah?"

"If I ever tease you about your ideas, you have permission to remind me of that one."

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. "Deal."

Carefully, I sat up and let him slip from me. An echo of the pain sounded through my core, and I winced, sucking a breath through my teeth.

"Okay?" he asked worriedly, also sitting up. "Sore?"

"A bit," I admitted. "It's okay. It'll go."

"You worried me there, going fast like that. You screamed, and I thought…"

"Sorry," I kissed him apologetically. "I did say I had no idea what I was doing. And I've always been a 'get it over with' sort of girl."

He stroked my hair. "I have _never_ noticed that about you at all," was the dry, affectionate reply.

I poked his ribs.

"Um," he looked over at the main room beyond the screen. "Do you think you could get those?"

"What? Oh," I realised he meant the candles still burning in their dishes in our home. Our home. "Sure."

I wrapped one of the furs around me and moved through the room, blowing them out except the last, which I brought over to the bed. Hiccup had buried himself under the rest of the furs, and he lifted them up as I set the candle down on the little table beside his head. I snuggled under and blew it out.

He folded me up in long arms and we drifted off to sleep.

We didn't stay asleep though… but I've got to go, Spike. I'll tell you the rest some other time.


	10. Chapter 10

Not mine, no money, no sue.

**Hey you reviewers. Awww, you guys. You guys are awesome. I was aiming for sweet hot utterly nervous lovey sexytimes for our two lovebirds. I'm so stoked you think I pulled it off (no pun intended). **

**And now, moar! **

* * *

Did I tell you what my morning gift was? Apart from tangled hair.

It was… well.

You know, I have married the sweetest dork in the history of Vikingdom.

We were pulled from our bed, crusty-eyed and happy, and I barely even saw him before I was whisked away back to my family home.

After a quiet but happy sojourn at my parents' little lodge in which my mother pinned my hair up and put the new wrought-steel band and cloth over it (it was lovely, and I wondered what she'd sold for it), she kissed my cheek and led me outside.

"Ainid?" she called, "your sister's going up to the hall now!"

"But Mum!" I heard him yell, and I grinned at the _sameness_, the familiarity.

"If you don't come see my gift, Ainie, I'll thump you," I warned.

"And if she doesn't, I will!" Mum added. I heard him grumble, but two seconds later he tromped around the side of the house, his sleeping Terrible Terror in his arms.

"For the gods' sake, Ainid, the poor beast is asleep, let her be," Mum snapped, and Ainid sighed and put his pet back in the fur-lined basket on his shoulder.

"I like to have her with me," he said sulkily.

"Fine," I said quickly, and I was thinking of you, sweetie. "Bring her, but it'll be noisy. She might wake up."

"Really?" he squinted at me. "Maybe I'd better leave her then."

"I would," Mum said dryly. "Hurry up."

Once Ainid had deposited Spickle back inside the house, we made our way to the mead-hall. It looked like the celebrations had continued for quite some time, and groaning revellers were still dotted around the wooden benches. Ale-cups, flagons and goblets were scattered all over, and in one corner Spitelout Jorgenson and Hensteeth Ingerman were still sitting and drinking with bleary determination. I sensed a challenge had been thrown down.

At the circular central table where Hiccup and I had dined the previous night, Stoick was sleeping propped against his equally comatose battle-brother Gobber. The snores were thunderous, and I wondered how I was ever to get to sleep in the same lodge as that sort of noise.

We picked our way over the strewn debris to where Bloodnut Thorston and some other village women were cleaning the banquet-table.

"Mrs Thorston," I said politely.

"Mrs Hofferson, Mrs Haddock, Master Hofferson" she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

I was floored. _Mrs Haddock._ Gods, I was ancient already. A married woman. An old lady.

"You've broken her, Bee," Mum chortled, pointing Ainid to the broken pottery by the door.

"I remember when someone first called me 'Mrs'," Bloodnut replied, chortling. "Feel old, dear?"

"Oh, stop it," I growled.

"I heard you accepted the Ingerman's offer?" Mum said conversationally, beginning to pick up cups and plates.

"Now that Ruffnut's regained her sanity," Bloodnut replied with exasperation. "Astrid, please don't think any of that nonsense was our idea. Their father always let those two have too much freedom, I say, and Ruffy always did like to push boundaries."

"Of course not," I said, righting a bench. "Ruff was being… Ruff. Water under the bridge now."

"Very kind of you, dear," Bloodnut beamed at me as the door creaked open.

Stoick jolted awake. "Wha..? Who's there? W're under attack?" he mumbled.

The assorted ladies chuckled. "It's your son," said Mum pointedly, and Stoick grunted.

"Tell him to stop that damned beast from tap-dancing on the warning drums," he slurred, and his head fell back against Gobber's with a _donk_.

"He's still out of it, I see," Hiccup's voice came wryly from behind me. Every nerve in my body came alive, and I span to face him. I couldn't stop the silly smile from spreading over my face. At least he was giving me one back.

"Just look at those two, Gerdie," Bloodnut cooed, "newlyweds, young love! Makes you giddy just to see it, doesn't it?"

I wanted to punch her, but smiling at Hiccup took precedence. "Morning," I said.

"Morning," he said back softly, before looking at the assorted village women. "So, we've got to get those two up?"

"Hmm," Mum looked at Gobber and Stoick. "I'm hoping you've got some ideas here."

That made me blush, and I could see a stain on Hiccup's cheeks as well. "Ahem," he coughed, "well, yeah, this is something I've got a lot of experience with."

He leaned over to his father's ear, and took a deep breath. Then, startlingly, he yelled, "under attack! We're under attack! Dragons, barbarians, Visigoths and Danes! Under attack!"

Stoick jumped, his helmet slipping over an eye. "To the catapults! Under attack! Under a- HICCUP! I've _told_ you to never…" he broke off as the ladies' laughter dawned on him. "And in front of witnesses too. Did it cross your mind that I'm the Chief of this place? I suppose you're wantin' me to lose the respect of the village?"

It was hard for a man as vast as Stoick to look sulky, but he was making a valiant attempt. I was snickering, and Ainid was outright guffawing.

"Sorry, Dad," Hiccup apologised. "Special circumstances and all…?"

"We'll talk about this later, Hiccup." Stoick stood and folded his massive arms.

"Gobber's next," said Hiccup in a promising voice, and Stoick's shoulders un-bunched a little. "You wanted to watch that one, didn't you?"

"Well," he sniffed, "I guess you know me that well."

Hiccup patted his father's burly shoulder, and then carefully leaned over to Gobber's ear. "Gobber! Oh my gods! Gobber, the shop is burning down! The smithy's on fire! The socks are gone! There's no breakfast! None! You've got to get out and save the breakfast!"

Gobber jerked awake and his eyes were wild and bloodshot. "No breakfast! No breakfast! Th' shop's burned down and no breakfast! It's trolls! It's the Boneknapper! It's Ragnarok!" His mismatched limbs flailed wildly, and he fell back off his bench.

I couldn't help it this time. I laughed uproariously, hearing my laughter joined by the hall.

"I know that laugh, that's… that's Astrid! Did you steal the breakfast?" Gobber lurched drunkenly from the floor, and I laughed harder as Hiccup tapped his mentor's shoulder.

"Gobber?"

"Eh? Hiccup? Oh… oh no, ohohoho no…"

"Now… don't kill me," Hiccup said placatingly, "please don't kill me…"

"You promised not to do that e'er again, boy!" Gobber picked Hiccup up with his hook. It didn't work so well now that Hiccup had his adult height, and his toes dragged on the floor.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but the breakfast is extremely very much not stolen and you can put me on charcoal duty for a week," Hiccup gave him a winning smile. Gobber growled and set him down.

"An' I will be," he prodded Hiccup's chest, making him totter backwards.

"After we do the presentation, though," Hiccup amended, and I blinked, remembering why we were all there.

"Well? Go on then," Gobber said grumpily, "quicker it's done, the quicker you're tending to charcoal pits."

"We're to wait for the rest of the village, aren't we?" I asked, but my mother shook her head.

"Close family is fine, Astrid," she said. "We're all here."

"Um, I could use a hand, you two," Hiccup confessed.

That piqued my interest. What needed two men to lift?

"Which way?" Gobber sighed.

"Ah, over here," Hiccup click-thumped over to an immense sea-chest secreted in a dark corner. "Dad, do you mind helping with this again?"

Stoick seemed to wince at the memory, but between the two massive men, the chest was dragged in front of me.

I gave Hiccup a sceptical look. "A sea-chest?"

He shifted on his feet nervously. "Open it."

It was _full_ of…

There were dresses and tunics, many in that same green woollen I had given him. There were simple pendants and gorgeous brooches decorated with dragon-scales, amber or bright stones. There was the thick pelt of that white rodent lining the collar of a coat. There were headpieces and rings and wrist-cuffs.

"Where did you _get_ all this?" I blurted. It was a fortune. It was a…

Hiccup bit his lip. "I made it," he admitted.

"He's been in and out of the smithy for three days and nights running," Gobber added.

"When he weren't makin' a racket in the loft," Stoick muttered.

"Though, you see those two headcloths with the bronze headpieces and matching brooches, oh, and those cuffs there? They- they were my mum's," Hiccup said, giving his father a worried, guarded look. Stoick's bearded face was impassive, but his eyes flicked to Hiccup and softened before growing distant.

"Well, Val would have wanted Astrid to wear it," he said gruffly. "Doin' nobody any good sitting in her old jewellery-coffer."

He made it, girl. He _made_ it.

Hiccup _made me a dowry._

My parents should have given me clothes and jewellery and linens and all sorts to bring to the marriage, but both Stoick and Hiccup knew my mother could do nothing of the sort.

He'd deliberately kept my side of the shelves empty to surprise me in the morning.

Then I knew he'd thought about Oglaranna. About... about dying.

Because if he'd made me all this…

If... if he...

Sorry. Just need a moment.

...

If he died, I'd get to keep it. My morning gift. And wouldn't go empty-handed into…

Into w-widowhood.

* * *

The ship's been sighted.

I can't…

I wish Toothless were awake.

I can't talk… about this.

I can't lose him now.

I.

I'll see you later, Spike.

* * *

Did you know that as part of the Chief's family, we had to tromp down to the wharves to meet them?

I didn't. No wonder Hiccup cringes from any sort of ceremony, he's been stuck with it since birth.

The longship was sighted this morning. Only one, which was reassuring in a way– it meant the Brassies weren't here expecting to honour their declaration of war.

It also meant the whole thing rested on Hiccup and Oglaranna – which _wasn't _so reassuring.

Stoick led us to the wharves early this afternoon, all decked out in his Chiefly finery. He looked as Vast as his moniker. Hiccup was wearing the tunic Ruffnut had given him and a new bearskin cloak, a wedding gift from his father.

I was dressed for action. Armoured shirt and skirt, my axe on my back and my headcloth bound tightly around my head to keep my fringe from slipping into my eyes. My only concession to the weather was the coat with the white weasel-skin collar that Hiccup had made me.

I have landed myself a very useful wife.

The ice-choked longship was larger than ours, so when it docked there was quite a leap down from the deck.

I stifled a curse when a _gigantic_ figure dropped down from the ship and landed on the wooden pier with a huge THUD. One of the ancient timbers even cracked.

"Oglaranna the Aggressive," Stoick said evenly.

"STOICK THE VAST!" the huge thing boomed, and strode forward to grasp our Chief's hand. The voice was like being stabbed repeatedly in the ear. "NICE PLACE! THIS DAMNED FOG LED US IN CIRCLES THE LAST TWO DAYS, NEVER THOUGHT WE'D MAKE IT!"

Ow. Ow, ow, ow. My ears.

Oglaranna was taller than Stoick by a couple of inches, and her helmet was adorned with a pair of giant ram's horns on either side of her head. Her blonde hair was a mane of violent curls, and her bullish shoulders were surmounted by Nadder-spiked pendants. I scowled on your behalf, sweetheart.

More gold than I had ever seen encircled her beefy wrists in a pair of burnished cuffs, and a battered breastplate the size of a table was strapped around her great-bosomed body.

Frost-Giantess was right.

"Welcome to Berk, Oglaranna," Stoick said formally. "Sorry t' hear about the fog. Now, what's this trip about then?"

Oglaranna gave Stoick an amused look from under eyebrows the length of my finger. "DON'T PLAY DUMB, STOICK, WHERE'S THAT PRETTY BOY OF YOURS? IT'S A LONG WAY TO COME FOR A WEDDING, BUT HANG IT ALL, I LOVE A HUNT. AH-HA!"

She'd noticed Hiccup, trembling slightly next to me. I touched the back of his hand surreptitiously. "Keep it together," I muttered.

"Yes, ma'am," he managed.

"THERE YOU ARE, CHICKEN! BEEN LEADING ME A MERRY CHASE, HAVEN'T YOU?" Oglaranna boomed jovially as she strode over to peer down at Hiccup.

"I tend to have that reaction to natural disasters in the making," said Hiccup with tremulous sarcasm.

"HA! WITTY LAD, I LIKE THAT!" Oglaranna threw her head back and laughed.

"Dat-da-da, and once more I'm dead," Hiccup groaned.

"Shut up," I hissed, and touched his hand again. He grabbed mine this time, and held on so tightly I could feel the bones in my hand shifting.

"NOW, WINTER'S A MISERABLE TIME TO GET HITCHED, BUT SEEING AS WE'RE…" Oglaranna trailed off.

She was looking at our clasped hands.

"WHO'S THIS?" she turned to me like a tectonic plate shifting. I hesitated, then lifted my chin.

"Astrid Haddock," I said defiantly.

"WHAT?" Oglaranna roared.

"ASTRID HADDOCK!" I roared back.

"You are always so subtle," Hiccup said to me in an almost conversational voice.

"HADDOCK?" Oglaranna turned on Hiccup again. Her eyes were mad blue fire.

"Yeah," Hiccup looked down at our joined hands, and then back at me. "My wife."

He didn't stammer that time. Not even an 'Er,' or 'Um.'

I was so proud of him I almost burst.

If it gets out into the village, my rep is _ruined_.

"STOICK! YOU SAID YOUR LITTLE DREAMBOAT WASN'T MARRIED! DID YOU LIE TO ME, STOICK? YOU TIRED OF LIFE, STOICK?" Oglaranna was turning purple as she rounded on my father-in-law. He didn't flinch.

"Didn't lie," he said calmly. "They weren't married when we were in Brass Monkey. But there was an…" his eyes met mine, and I swear, they _twinkled_, "understanding."

Hiccup's head jerked towards his father, and then to me, and he raised his eyebrow.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. Wow, thanks, '_Dad_'.

"AN…UNDERSTANDING? WITH THIS? THIS… VILLAGE GIRL IN NEW FURS… A _POOR_ GIRL IN NEW CLOTHES!" Oglaranna boomed threateningly. I bristled. "WELL THEN, UNDERSTAND THIS!"

She whirled faster than I could have ever imagined a person her size doing, and prodded a finger like a sausage into Hiccup's narrow chest. It sat him down on his rear with a thump.

"YOU, BOY, ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS INSULT. TOMORROW AT DAWN! YOU CAN PICK THE FIELD. I ALWAYS LIKE TO HAVE MY OPPONENTS PICK A PLACE TO DIE!"

Hiccup stared at the pointing finger as though it could explode.

"AND AS FOR _YOU_…!"

The giantess whirled on me then, and grabbed my shirt, lifting me up to her eye-level. I fought back an 'eep' and unstrapped my axe with a practised hand, holding it under her chin.

She looked down at it with dismissal, and then at me with a slight flicker of interest. "FEISTY LITTLE THING, AREN'T YOU, _MRS HADDOCK,_" she snarled. I jerked my axe closer to that tree-trunk throat.

"You have no idea," I replied in as steely a voice as I could muster. "Down, please."

"LOOKING FORWARD TO BEING A WIDOW?" she sneered.

"Down. Now," I snapped, and she huffed, tossing me back four feet onto the fallen Hiccup without a sign of effort.

"YOU CHEATED ME OF A HUSBAND, VILLAGE GIRL," she bellowed menacingly. "I'D KEEP A LOW PROFILE IF I WERE YOU."

"You obviously don't know her. Ooof," Hiccup mumbled as I scrambled off him to snatch up my fallen axe and assume a ready stance.

"HA! SHE FEELS LIKE BEING THE NEXT TO DIE! CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HIM, ASTRID HADDOCK?" she mocked simperingly. It was like being mocked by a mountain.

"Do you even know the first thing about him?" I shot back. Gods, she made me angry. In so, _so_ many ways.

She looked taken aback. "WHAT…?"

"Do you know anything at _all _about _Hiccup_?" I growled, unmoving. Oglaranna seemed a bit perplexed. She scratched at her beefy chin.

"HE'S PRETTY?"

I looked pointedly down at Hiccup, and he gave me an '_oh, all right_!' look.

"That's what he looks like. Anything about who he is?" I let a superior look creep over my face, hoping to annoy her. "Anything…?"

Oglaranna scowled. "WELL, HE'S STOICK'S SON, AND HE'S GOT A DRAGON CALLED TOOTHY-"

"Tooth_less_," Hiccup muttered.

"That's his father and his best friend, not him," I said in a bored way.

"—AND HE'S A GOOD SMITH, AND HE HASN'T GOT A FOOT BECAUSE HE KILLED A BIG THING CALLED THE RED DEATH-"

"_Green_ Death," Hiccup sighed.

"I thought it was red?" I said in surprise.

"Oh come on, Astrid, it was green," Hiccup folded his arms.

"I remember it as more of a blue-grey," Stoick mused.

"—AND HE'S A HERO…" Oglaranna's voice trailed off.

I let scorn colour my voice. "And those are things he's _done_. That's _it_?"

"IT'S A MARRIAGE! YOU LEARN ABOUT EACH OTHER AFTERWARDS!" she said defensively.

"I didn't," I said bluntly. "I've known him my whole life."

"I'm still learning about you," Hiccup said quietly, and I fought to keep the smile from my face.

"Me too," I met his eyes, and couldn't fight the smile any more.

"I KNOW HE MARRIED A SMART-MOUTHED LITTLE SNIP," Oglaranna growled.

"She does know something, then," remarked Stoick. I glared at him.

"You should know something else, though…" Hiccup clambered to his feet, and put a hand on my taut axe-arm, "I love her."

"LOVE HER," repeated Oglaranna flatly.

"And I love him," I retorted just as flatly.

"EH. LOVE SHMOVE. INSULT IS INSULT," Oglaranna grinned like a shark. "TOMORROW AT DAWN. I'LL EXPECT A MESSENGER TO TELL ME WHERE I'M TO KILL YOU."

"Charming," Hiccup muttered.

"WELL, THEY DON'T CALL ME 'THE AGGRESSIVE' FOR NOTHING," she shrugged.


	11. Chapter 11

Not mine, no money, no sue.

**Foxy's Girl, Leon Woon: Thank you so much, guys! Voldyne: she's _supposed_ to be overdone. It's humorous. She's a character designed for people to love to hate, after all! Necro wulf & Giving Light: *blushblushblush* Thank you so much!**

**And now, I guess you're desperate to get on with it!**

* * *

Oh my gods.

Oh my gods.

Oh mighty gods, oh great Norns, oh gods, gods gods.

…

So.

So, right then, so, uh…

That morning.

Right, um.

So, yesterday morning, we went to Toothless' cove.

It's where…

It's where Hiccup decided to…

Oh my gods.

I can't believe…

Sorry, Spike… I…

…

Gods.

So. So we all tromped to the cove. Everyone. The whole village, all of the Brass Monkey sailors, following Hiccup and Oglaranna.

I'd thought Hiccup was taller. He looked so small.

Oglaranna was in a great mood. She kept on swinging her axe and cheerfully booming, "GREAT DAY FOR IT, ISN'T IT?" until I wanted to pound that broad face in.

Hiccup was… just walking. Just walking, quiet and serious, the way he can be sometimes.

He held my hand the whole way.

He wasn't even trembling.

Not like me. I was shaking like an autumn leaf, my fingers clutching and re-clutching at his.

I've never… not before. Not before Hiccup. The Norns had to spare him. The three ladies of destiny could not be so cruel as to give him to me and then snatch him away. I'd been praying to Urd for a kind fate and to Odin to protect him in combat all night.

I prayed even as he loved me, as I loved him. He held me too tightly afterwards and buried his face in my hair, but he never said anything about dying. He didn't need to.

When we'd all made it under (or over) the shield stuck in the entrance to the cove, Hiccup turned to me and grabbed my face.

"Astrid," he murmured fiercely. "I love you."

"You'd better not die," I hissed, not trusting myself to say it back without tears.

He just smiled, green eyes bright with fear.

I kissed him then, and deepened it, wrapping my arms around his neck. He choked a sob into my mouth, before kissing me back. Hard, passionate, desperate kisses.

"You'd better not," I growled against his mouth, "you're not going to get away from me that easily."

"Wouldn't dare," he breathed, and kissed me again. "Astrid, Astrid…"

"ARE THEY ALWAYS LIKE THIS?"

"Ah, no, that's new," Gobber's voice replied.

"Hiccup," Stoick's voice broke through our reverie. "Hiccup, time."

He kissed me softly then, and leaned his forehead against mine.

"Time to get my Thor on," he quipped weakly with a pale half-smile.

"You'll be…" I couldn't finish that. "I believe in you." That was better.

His little half-smile turned into that crooked grin that cuts through my heart. "Time for something stupid?"

"Something crazy," I smiled back shakily, my voice actually cracking, and kissed him once more. It felt like I was watching from under water as my hands smoothed down his tunic, and then let him go.

He looked at me for a long moment as though committing me to memory, then his eyes grew distant. He drew himself up straight, and unslung his hammer.

"Come on, son," Stoick put a beefy hand in the middle of Hiccup's back, and handed him his helmet.

"Something crazy," I heard him whisper to himself as he placed it on his head and turned to face the grinning giantess.

"VERY TOUCHING," she laughed. "READY TO DIE, GORGEOUS?"

"Is that what you see in me?" Hiccup asked calmly, a sarcastic lilt in his tone.

My heart leapt as I watched him move out to take the position across from her, limbering his hammer-elbow. He looked so thin and brittle across compared to the titanic woman, a foot shorter than her, and so very breakable. But he was calm. So calm. Was he?

He hadn't been calm that morning… or the night before…

_What was going on in that head of his?_

"WHAT, DEATH?"

"Gorgeous," Hiccup sneered the word, and swang his hammer contemptuously as he warmed up.

"FISHING FOR COMPLIMENTS?" Oglaranna's axe made a terrible whistling sound as she swiped it through the air.

"Hey, if you'd been where I was three years ago, you'd never have your fill of compliments either," he pointed out, and there was a small titter of laughter through the assembled villagers.

"THAT'S FUNNY?" Oglaranna squinted at them.

"Long story," Hiccup assumed a ready position, hammer gripped loosely in his left hand. "But no, I actually really want to know. Astrid asked yesterday, and you don't know the first thing about me. So, was it my looks?"

Oglaranna shrugged. "YOU'RE VERY PRETTY. I ALWAYS WANTED A PRETTY HUSBAND."

Hiccup winced. "Yeesh, pretty."

"DOES ANYTHING ELSE ACTUALLY MATTER?" Oglaranna also assumed a ready position.

I couldn't help it – she was obviously an imbecile as well as half-troll. I laughed derisively.

And Hiccup lunged, his hammer whirling in that practiced arc to slam with perfect precision on Oglaranna's axe arm. He'd moved faster than a snake-strike, faster than a Night Fury. The giant woman actually dropped the axe with a strangled curse, and my breath stopped in disbelief.

"It matters," Hiccup snarled.

I was dumbfounded. The surrounding villagers were in shock. Hiccup had actually scored the first hit, and it looked like Oglaranna's axe-arm was out of action. And as to what was going on in his head – he was _angry_.

Oglaranna cradled her broken right arm against her body, and picked up her axe with her left. "VERY CLEVER, SURPRISE ATTACK," she grunted. "WON'T SAVE YOU, BUT CLOSEST ANYONE'S GOTTEN IN YEARS. YOU'VE BEEN PRACTISING, CHICKEN!"

"Would you quit calling me that?" Hiccup started to warily pace around his still opponent.

"YOU DON'T LIKE BEING CALLED ANYTHING, DO YOU? NOT GORGEOUS, OR CHICKEN, OR DREAMBOAT. PERHAPS YOU SHOULD ENJOY IT WHILE YOU'VE GOT THE CHANCE; THEY'LL BE CALLING YOU DEAD SOON!" Oglaranna jeered, and she lashed out faster than I could follow, the axe screaming through the air.

She was obviously just as accomplished with her left arm as her right. I sucked air between my teeth. Hiccup blocked the huge blow with the hammer, and I saw him wince at the shock up his arm. The strength behind the blow was prodigious. She reversed the swing, and he ducked as the axe sizzled through the air where his throat had been. A vicious strike at his feet forced him to jump – and almost made him stumble, but the spikes under his foot caught the frozen sod. I saw him grimace as his stump landed heavily inside his leg. I heard a groan from Gobber's direction, but my eyes were riveted to the fight.

"This might be an out-there suggestion, but how about my name?" Hiccup panted, and the hammer snaked out and clacked precisely on her left knee.

She fell to the ground on her right knee, panting with pain. Hiccup's absolute precision with that hammer was baffling her. He didn't make useless passes – only striking when and where it would do damage.

"- not that it's all that great a name. Sorry, Dad," Hiccup watched her like a hawk.

"Blame your mother," Stoick's voice was weak with incredulity. "She… wanted a family name."

"I like it when Astrid calls me love, or husband," Hiccup continued, as Oglaranna hauled herself painfully to her feet and hefted her axe again. "That's good for the ol' ego."

"THAT LITTLE FOOL WIFE OF YOURS," Oglaranna growled, and the axe span in a complicated manoeuvre. Hiccup jumped back, but not before a deep slice was carved across his chest and along the back of his hammer-arm. He screamed through gritted teeth.

I cried out, and clapped my hands over my mouth.

Hiccup's breath was harsh and loud as he fought to keep the pain under control. Oglaranna didn't follow up on her advantage – from the way she was leaning, her kneecap was broken and she couldn't walk. Her face was shiny with sweat and agony.

"Not…" Hiccup rasped, "_uuunghh!_… not a fool…."

"Stop defending _me_, you idiot," I yelled at him, and my eyes were pricking in front of the whole village and I didn't care.

He smiled through his scratchy breathing. Blood began to seep through his tunic and trickle down his arm at an alarming rate.

"SO WHAT DOES… unh… SHE KNOW THAT I SUPPOSEDLY DON'T?" Oglaranna swiped at him again, but he was out of her reach. "HMM? NOTHING! AND SHE'S NOTHING! NOTHING BUT A POOR VILLAGE GIRL WITHOUT A SHRED OF FAME OR HONOUR TO HER NAME!"

His head came up. I could see wildness in his eyes.

He was stepping within range of her axe again, and in defence of _me_. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Oglaranna sent her blade howling at his face, but he barely seemed to notice, leaning back absently as another cut was made across his cheek and the bridge of his nose. Hiccup's arm was moving, his blood running down his arm to spatter his hammer as it traced that precise arc through the air again –

- to smash heavily against the lurching Chieftess' jaw. I heard the sickening _crunch_.

Oglaranna cried out in pain and fell onto her injured left knee, eliciting another scream. The wounded giantess rolled onto her back, and her broken arm thudded against the frozen grass.

The stunned silence was so thick you could walk on it.

Hiccup's breathing was laboured as he kicked Oglaranna's axe away from her. His fingers were still nervelessly clutching his hammer, and he raised it above his head shakily.

"You listen to me," he said in a wobbly but determined voice. "Or this comes down on your other arm."

Oglaranna's eyes widened, and her lips twitched as her eyes refocused on Hiccup. Her jaw hung uselessly.

"You know… nothing. At all," Hiccup managed, panting and wavering on his feet. "Astrid knows… she knows everything. She knows… I'm not brave… I'm not strong… that I still think I'm useless sometimes… and my leg… and how I feel about it…"

My automatic scold-Hiccup-for-his-insecurities reflex kicked in. "You are the bravest person in this village, Hiccup!" I marched over to him and glared. "Stop saying things like that about yourself!"

He looked at me like I was mental, and I realised his hammer was still poised, trembling, over his head.

"Ah, carry on," I mumbled.

His hammer dropped to the icy grass behind him with a heavy thump, and he tottered slightly before falling solidly against me. "Can't, he groaned. "Hurts."

"It's… it's to the death, lad," Stoick's voice was numb with shock, and then a chorus of voices joined in.

"Finish it!"

"Get her, Hiccup!"

"Kill her!"

"Berk's honour!"

"Hi-ccup, Hi-ccup, Hi-ccup…"

"End that shouting cow!"

"Finish her!"

"I can't kill her," Hiccup moaned against my neck. A trickle of his blood was dripping from his cut nose down the collar of my coat. "I couldn't kill anything."

"You said wouldn't," I reminded him tenderly, and he huffed.

"Either. Or. Not killing her," he said stubbornly, and wrapped his arms around me, leaning heavily.

"She could come back and kill you later," I pointed out, and he shook his head against my neck.

"Don't care. She won't. Will you?" He blearily looked over at the prone Oglaranna.

She shook her head gingerly, eyes wide with sincerity, pain and actual respect.

"See?" he turned back to me. "Let 'em go… besides, if she doesn't go back, Bugeyes'll be sad."

"Well, we can't have that, poor little Bugeyes," I said gently. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Hiccup?" Stoick stumbled across the grass as I led my limping husband away from his opponent. "Hiccup, you've got to…"

"He's not going to," I said firmly. "We're going to splint her and send her home."

Stoick gawked for a moment, before his mouth snapped shut and he nodded slowly, his face filled with wonderment and a huge, wordless pride. "I… I never thought y'could do it, son. I never…"

Hiccup raised his blood-smeared face and vaguely grinned at his father. "Astrid taught me… and my hammer, like yours, did you see…"

"Come on," I looped his arm over my shoulders, "we've got to stitch those cuts."

"More scars," Hiccup sighed, and his other hand groped vaguely at his head until he could pull off his helmet and hand it to Stoick.

"That's what makes it fun, remember?" I said archly, and he laughed weakly.

"Gobber, where's Gobber?" he mumbled as I helped him through the now-silent crowd.

"Here, lad," Gobber pushed his way towards us, his face proud. "Surprised us all, haven't you? Again. Y'got to stop doin' that, it's bad for my nerves. And my undies."

"I'll… make a point of that," Hiccup smiled weakly. "Gotta… gotta sew up my face and chest and arm…"

"Aye," Gobber nodded gravely.

"Teach…" he turned to me.

"Teach her to sew you up?" Gobber sounded surprised, "Er, lad, it's usually best to practise on an old cloth before you graduate to people…"

"Want her to do it," Hiccup said mulishly.

"I'll do it," I said quickly. "You can…" I cleared my throat. It hadn't sunk in yet, and we were talking about stitching through his _skin_. "You can start me off, Gobber."

So. I can sew now, sweetheart.

Hiccup's alive. He's asleep at the moment.

I can't help but remember how long he slept last time…

It's unbearable to see him, lying there. But I have to remember that he's alive.

He's _alive_. Through sheer luck and nerve and good old-fashioned Viking stubbornness issues.

I can't… I can barely believe it.

I think we both thought he would die. I think everyone did, and he proved us wrong all over again.

Oh Gods.

_Thank you_.

Oh my dearest Gods, thank you… thank you… oh, _thank you._


	12. Chapter 12

Not mine, no money, no sue.

**Well, everyone, here's the end! Work is being done on a big adventure sequel, so hold onto your hats for approximately a month, and I'll be revisiting this 'verse. Thank you so, so much for all your kind reviews, I have loved the feedback from each and every one of you! Don't forget to tell me if you like/hate/go cross-eyed at the ending!**

**(Also, sorry Foxy's Girl - what with stitches and everything, this might be a bit triggery to read... *hides* Sorreeee...!)**

* * *

He was in a kind of shock when we dragged him up the hill to our house. We sat him down before the fire, and then Gobber had him drink three whole tankards of mead. That seemed to snap him out of it, though not in a useful way. He's an absolute lightweight with alcohol, and was swaying like a branch and blinking owlishly as we hauled him from the bench beside Toothless.

"Y're so pretty," he burbled, and his hand reached for my head-covering. I caught it and used it to pull him up. His other hand snaked around to grab my rear.

"I should have known," I sighed. "C'mon hero, upstairs." The tension was still running through me like a flood, and I couldn't hide the redness of my eyes or the high colour in my cheeks.

"Aye, never could hold his drink," Gobber commented as we man-handled my inebriated husband up the loft stairs. "And it seems he gets a bit frisky."

"Wonderful," I muttered, and pulled Hiccup through the trap. He slid bonelessly against me, and I caught him. He was as slippery as a fresh-caught eel. "We've got to get him to the bed."

"Astrid? Love you," Hiccup patted clumsily at my head again. "Love your hair, wish you… wish you din' have t' cover it."

"Maybe I should carry him?" I dodged a finger a bit close to my eye.

"I'll do that," Stoick said sombrely from behind me, and scooped Hiccup's long, lanky frame up in a single sweep. "Come on, son."

Gobber was carrying hot water and bandages and an astringent-smelling tincture in a bowl. "Not seen what the boy did up here," he commented without inflection. "Very nice."

"When he wasn't with you, he was up here," Stoick grunted as he lay Hiccup down on our bed. "Hammering an' polishing away at all hours."

He'd worked so hard for me. I was suddenly ashamed. I didn't deserve…

And then I swallowed as Gobber briskly cut his blood-soaked tunic away from his body, and we all got a good look at the deep red slice high on his chest. Hiccup was still smiling goofily at me, but then looked down at it and said, "oh. Ow. Hey, that hurts…"

"Really?" said Gobber dryly. "Astrid, wipe all that blood off him, an' then wipe down the wounds with the stuff in the bowl."

"He'll need a bit of leather," Stoick stood, straightening his helmet.

"Scraps are near the shelves, by the roll of green woollen," I said absently, wetting a cloth.

"Right at home, aren't you," Stoick said approvingly. Hiccup beamed, then hissed as I wiped blood from the cut on his cheek and nose.

"Ow," he whined. "Astrid, why are you hurting me?"

"I didn't do it," I dabbed at his nose. "Oglaranna did. And you didn't even dodge this one."

"Oh yeah," he lolled back on the furs a bit as I pulled the remnants of his tunic away and washed the blood from his arm and chest. "Oggle… Ogglerana. Man, she was big. Hey, did I actually win?"

"You actually did," I smiled a bit tearfully. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Whoa. I won. Dad, I won a fight! Hey…" his hand was pushing my head-cover back again, "hey now… Astrid, are you crying?"

"No," I gritted. I was.

"Don't… don't cry, Astrid," he looked a bit overawed. "I'm okay, really… _hic_, really okay."

"Don't tell me _you_ have the hiccups," I turned my face away from him to hide my wet eyes, and grabbed the sharp-smelling bowl of tincture. "Hold still."

"_hic_… don't want you to _hic_ cry," he said as seriously as he could whilst swaying slightly, naked to the waist and drunk. "Ow!" he added as I wiped the tincture along the worryingly deep gash on his chest. "That stings!"

"It's goin' to get worse, lad," Stoick held out a short strip of leather he'd found. "Here, bite down."

"On leather? Dad… that's f'r harnesses and _hic_ stuff," Hiccup looked confused as I wiped down his face with the stuff, and Gobber pulled his shoulders down to the bed.

"Do we need to sit on him, d'you think?" Gobber eyed the wounds critically.

"No-_hic_! No-one needs to sit on anyone!" Hiccup tried to push himself back up, but Gobber had six times his strength, and he had to flop back down with an 'oof'.

"Let's hold that in reserve, shall we?" Stoick shook the scrap of leather. "Between his teeth."

"_hic_ But wait uuumph Dad shish ishn't comforble," Hiccup mumbled resentfully around it, and I cleaned the shallower cut on his arm with the astringent stuff. "Ow, Ashtrid why wou' you _do_ 'at…"

"Helps it heal clean," Gobber told him sternly as Stoick took his place at Hiccup's shoulders. He deftly threaded a long needle one-handedly with what looked like deer sinew. Ew. "An' this is about to get a lot less comfortable, Hiccup."

"Oh _hic_ fantashtic, yay pain," he grumbled, and then his whole body stiffened, arching off the bed. Gobber pulled the thread through his arm and tied a knot. "Uh… uh… uh," he panted, his face white.

"Bite down on that leather," Stoick commanded, and I felt for his hand and squeezed it. His fingers clamped around mine like a vice as Gobber made a second stitch and then a third.

"Astrid," Gobber said then in a low voice, "come an' watch this."

"Unnngh!" Hiccup's eyes rolled back in his head as I pried my hand out of his, and I fought another wave of tears.

"Show me," I said bluntly, daring either of the men to say anything about my wet eyes.

I watched Gobber make a few more stitches. It didn't seem hard. What _was_ hard was watching Hiccup's hands fist erratically against the furs, and his body thrash against the pain until his father had to hold him down. "D'you think you can handle that?" Gobber turned to me with the needle, his moustached face deadly earnest.

I set my jaw and nodded.

He handed me the needle, and stood to let me sit on the side-table where he had been. "You'll want to keep them as even as possible," he said in a professional-sounding way. "He'll yelp an' squirm, but it has to be done."

I nodded again. I didn't think I'd be able to answer.

I sat and looked for a moment at his torn flesh, and then set the needle into his skin.

I… I don't want to describe how he flailed. I finished stitching the cut, and my eyes were blurrier than ever. Gobber knotted off the sinew and re-threaded the needle, and I set it back into his skin and sewed his chest, tears rolling silently down my face as he sobbed and panted and writhed and finally, mercifully, passed out.

"Thank the gods," Stoick stood from where he'd been leaning heavily on Hiccup's shoulders, and breathed out gustily. "Thought he'd never conk out."

"Lasted longer than I thought," Gobber commented, peering over to see my handiwork.

"I've got to do his face," I muttered, and tried to re-thread the needle. My eyes were now so watery I could barely see, and I missed.

"Here, lass," Gobber gently took it from me. "I'll do it."

"Thank-" I broke off, swallowing hard, then ripped off my headcloth and used it to wipe my face.

"We can probably just bandage the one on his cheek," Stoick said into the uncomfortable silence, and Gobber shook his head, handing me the threaded needle.

"Too deep," he said flatly. "Has to be stitched. Astrid… did ye want me to finish the job?"

"I'll do it," I choked. "He wanted me to."

"Aye," Gobber put a hand on my shoulder. "So he did."

It was harder to sew into his face, simply because it was his _face_. I could see every grimace of pain, every twitch, as what I was doing intruded into his unconsciousness. It seemed like an age as I stitched and stitched, but finally the thing was done. I knotted the final loop over the bridge of his nose, and then put a hand against his other cheek. "He does so hate scars," I said brokenly.

"He should be glad to get them," Gobber snorted, putting the needle and sinew into the empty bowl. "Thought he was a goner for sure."

"Oglaranna's been undefeated for twenty years," Stoick said distantly. "Aye. So did I."

"I cannae believe he did it," Gobber put a fond hand on Hiccup's messy sweat-soaked hair and stood. "Got to get those new stitches bandaged."

"_I_ cannae believe someone actually taught him to fight," Stoick shook his head, and traded places with his battle-brother. "Lift him up, then."

Gobber lifted Hiccup's shoulders, and I helped Stoick wind the bandages around Hiccup's slender chest. "Well, that too! Lost cause, I always thought. How'd you teach him, Astrid?"

"Hiccup needs reasons for what he does," I said absently as I worked. "And you were the one who taught him how to use a hammer with accuracy. I just used that."

"Well, you've got a gift there, the teachin' I mean. Maybe we should set somethin' up with the younger children?" Gobber gave Stoick a speculative look, and the Chief nodded consideringly.

"Good idea," he said thoughtfully. "I'll talk to you about it later, Astrid."

"Did ye see her face when he slammed that hammer down on her arm? She hadn't even moved a muscle yet!" Gobber suddenly chortled. "This skinny young fishbone wi'out a foot, and he's gone an' broken her arm before she can blink!"

Stoick chuckled fiercely. "An' when she's laid out with her jaw busted, and he says, 'you listen, or I break your other arm!' Who'd have thought?"

"About time someone busted her jaw, that woman gives me a headache," Gobber commented, laying Hiccup down, and both Stoick and I laughed.

"She gives all of Midgard a headache," I said caustically.

"I'm thinking there might be a few subdued celebrations on the Brassies' ship tonight," Stoick said slyly as he held Hiccup's arm for me to wrap.

"Oh? Her people not fond of her, then?" Gobber enquired.

"It's not that," Stoick grinned. "They're proud of having such a fierce leader. But with her jaw broken she's not likely to be shouting at them any time soon. They'll be glad o' the holiday. Most of 'em are half-deaf by thirty."

"Ha! I can see how that'd be a cause for celebration," Gobber sniggered.

"An' the woman's even loud in her sleep," Stoick added. "We stayed in her lodge in Brass Monkey, an' I'll admit that I can snore, but this? This sounded like a horde of Gronkles purring inside a cave."

I winced.

Once Hiccup had been bandaged, I took off his leg and we eased him under the furs. His blood was all over the top one, so I bundled it up and threw it into my washing-box, hard. That helped. Then I stood, watching him sleep for a moment.

"Just…" Gobber cleared his throat, "just let him sleep until he wakes. Won't be long. Not like last…" he broke off uncomfortably.

"Thank you," I said abstractedly.

"He'll be all right, Astrid," Gobber said in a gentler voice, and his meaty hand patted my shoulder again. "After all, he's lived through worse."

"Aye, that's true. This boy's making me old," Stoick smiled ruefully. "I'll… I'll leave you two, then. I'll just be downstairs…"

"No, you've got to go be Chief and see that the Brassies get decent healing for Oglaranna," I said, turning to them. "But we'll be fine. He'll be fine. If he needs you, I'll come get you."

"Well, look after him and yourself, then," Gobber gave Stoick a look that said _and don't you worry yourself into your barrow_. "Come on then, Stoick, time t'be the man with the plan." He turned and clattered his way over to the stairs. Stoick sighed, scratching under his helmet, and then gave me an approving look.

"Well," he said gruffly, "I know he's in good hands."

They left, pulling the trap shut behind them. I shucked my clothes in a sort of daze, and crawled under the furs. Hiccup was radiating heat like a forge, and I tucked myself close against him, careful not to brush any of his wounds.

Slipping my hand into his unresponsive fingers made a tight knot inside me fray and dissolve.

Is that what love is all about, Spike? To be so frightened to lose someone, to need them so much? To feel safe when you touch them, when they touch you? To hold your home in your arms?

In that sharp late morning light, I cried silently until I slept.

I don't cry. I haven't cried since I was four. This one day. Odin, I haven't cried since my father died, and then…

It's all real. It's really real. It's the realest thing in the world. Nothing has ever been more true.

I woke at night. Stoick had obviously come upstairs at some point because a candle was flickering merrily on Hiccup's bench, along with a pitcher of water, some thin mutton broth and a hunk of bread.

I stood, my eyes aching, and pulled a fur around myself. The broth was cold, but I guessed that wouldn't matter as long as he ate it.

It's difficult to get an unconscious man to take in anything at all, in fact. His lovely mouth was slack, and I had to prop him up against my body to keep the water and broth from dribbling onto the pallet. He wouldn't chew the bread at all. I gave up on it.

I spent some time looking through the sketches on his bench. Toothless, harnesses and saddles, me, an excellent one of Ruff and Tuff fighting, a sort of catapult which could lob nets and bolas, me again and again, Toothless asleep on the hearth, a great picture of me riding you, Spike, plans and calculations for weighting his hammer, Snotlout on his Nightmare, me, me, me, a close detailing of the veins in the wing of a Terrible Terror.

What an eye for detail he has. What a beautiful dork he is.

The last one in his sketchbook was of me sprawled and sleeping, my hair a wreck and a smile on my lips.

My eyes were pricking again.

I turned away from his sketches and pulled myself back into bed.

"You'd better wake up," I whispered in his ear, fighting my stupid eyes once more, "you're not getting away from me that way either."

I finally fell asleep again as the sun was coming up.

I woke mid-morning, and Hiccup was the same. I couldn't stay in the house any more… I simply couldn't watch his sleeping face a second longer. The memories were suffocating. That was when I came here to tell you about the fight, Spike. Stoick saw me go. I'm sure he wonders why I visit you so often.

When I got back, Stoick had another bowl of broth and some bread. "Here," he handed it to me. "He have any of that last night?"

"A little," I answered as matter-of-factly as I could. "No bread."

Stoick sighed and nodded. "Well, all we can do is wait." _Again_, I heard his silent addendum. How hard would it be for Stoick, seeing his son like this - _again_? After pulling off the impossible – _again_?

I put a hand on his thick forearm. "He'll be fine," I said firmly.

He patted my hand. "I know, lass, I know. You get that up there."

I took the tray up the stairs, which caused some awkward juggling to open the trap. Exasperated, I eventually had to put the tray down in order to get it sorted out.

Hiccup was the same.

I sighed, and my heart sank. Somehow I'd hoped that he'd be awake by the time I got back.

I wet the bread in the broth and held it to his lips. He still wouldn't take it, so I settled for sliding behind him again and spooning broth into his mouth.

When the bowl was almost empty, I felt him shift.

I froze.

He _groaned_ and then shifted again against me. "Ast…"

"Here," I said gently, but my heart was flying on a dragon.

He tried to twist to see me, but it put too much strain on the stitching. He sucked in a breath. "Ahh!"

"Stay still," I told him.

"What're you… doing back there?" he mumbled, and I smiled blindly and madly at nothing.

"Helping you to eat, lazy," I answered. I couldn't keep my crazy smile out of my voice. "You've been asleep a whole day."

"It's… morning?" his head craned around.

"Early afternoon," I corrected. "Here. Dunk this bread into the broth."

"Bleargh, broth," he whined, and I laughed. I couldn't help it. Hiccup was awake, he'd be fine, he was whinging, and my chest was tight with such utter happiness.

I might not be down again for a couple of days, girl. I've got to help him get better. And well, it's all better, everything is better now.

And it's still our honey-month.

Gods, all that mead.

* * *

~fin~


End file.
